little drops of anguish will all run together; Kreios

[burr]

Burr has never been anything but MandrakeandBurr; her brother was the leader, and she was just a lowly follower to his every whim, patient and forgiving of all the harsh nips and slurs she received from him. Mandrake was not entirely unkind to her, he was just the way he was supposed to be - the big brother, the older twin, the stronger of the two but she never expected him to sever their tie so neatly or quickly and leave Burr bereft of all that she has ever known since it was always the two of them after being weaned off their mother’s milk. Even then, at the mare’s side, it had been the two of them and Mandrake in his infancy had taken better care of her than he did the moment they became a stallion and a mare, then something changed in his face, became horrible and foul towards her and she suffered his cruelties out of sisterly adoration for him. His largeness unnerves her in a way that is not entirely unbecoming of him; the difference of it almost soothes her too, knowing he is protection against predators but that is the combination of zebra and horse instinct and genetics telling her that his size is indicative of a good leader. She could be as simpleminded as that, to simply fall into line beside him and let him lead her wherever he wished to, but part of her balks at the idea - she is Burr, oddly independent even if not by choice but rather through circumstance, but her pride wars with her ability to see that he is kind and trying. Burr knows she needs help, the problem is whether or not she really wants it or wants to remain lost and alone. She looks up at him, her head on a tilt, “It’s not where but who,” she tells him. The correction apparent but only to herself and she knows that she makes little sense to him, but then, she never made sense except as MandrakeandBurr. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be any more,” and Burr cannot help herself, she gives her striped head a little shake and seeks refuge in his too-big side into which she presses herself, needing to feel his warmth and realness even though she can smell how real he is but she thinks her eyes still deceive her. Her little nose swipes against his brawny shoulder and she sighs, “I can’t expect you to know who I’m to be either.” and it sounds so forlorn, that she tries to laugh afterwards, to break up the misery that chokes her throat. “Sorry,” she offers, by way of scant apology, looking up at him again then back out towards the stream, not quite sure what to say now.