thrushes


When Gormglaith awoke, Raoghnailt's twiggish arms were wrapped about her waist again. The banshee's eyes steadied upon a long, thick lock of straight sandy blond hair flowing across shy Blodwen's slender frame as she breathed in the slow even grasp of deep sleep, then fixed upon her left ear with its tabbish lobe and scooping whorls, bated fuzz glimmering inside.

Nearby Myghin, Maevis and Paestin, hair loose and askew, were jumbled in rumpled white longstockings which glowed in sundry hues beaming from the hall's soaring windows. Later Blodwen sprang off like a shrike, pixie bottom dwindling fast with sandy hair flying across it.

"Raoghnailt."

"...Raoghnailt."

"What."

"Might we be getting up now?"

"Hmm."

Gormglaith waited, shifting her limbs as Raoghnailt followed and fit herself back in neatly with a sigh.

"Dost tha wanna sleep more?"

"No."

"Ok."

"I had quite the canny dream."

"Me too but I can't recall what it was," said Gormglaith.

"I can, kind of. I had fun, I think."

Raoghnailt rose to her knees and scanned the hall.

"Time to get up!" she said, taking a galloping crawl across the sweeping staddle's heaps, wrinkles and ruckles.

"Come on noddy bones! It's thy flurt!"

Gormglaith dragged herself off the cotton folds and they ran after Blodwen to slash side by side, scrub teeth and comb hair (making much more noise at it). Strolling to the supper lair they found scollagyn and shees having breakfast. Outside in the close, bright blossoms were ruffled by a crisp wind as fat, yellow and black striped bumble bees made their bobbling rundles and trips under a harsh sunstorm. Plopping Frisian nestleblack, butter, jam and hazelnuts onto a shared dish along with a big bowl of seeds, grains and milk they headed for birch nest's empty longboard.

Raoghnailt coaxed Blodwen to spill about herself. She came from a clannin of Newhaven teach witches, brought in neuchadjin with a moof tide let for only thirty-three abidings. She braided early towards being a shee and her kynn had taken her to see teaches across the world but on a Beltane eve the night she was maegden, Blodwen pledged the Meeching teach, only a few hundred yards from home. Thirteen moons later she carried over to the Wrath. After two dozen or so with blueberry nest in the barrows she'd come to Haethwyck and birch to be with Raoghnailt. She found it all stirring but got homesick sometimes for her kynn back at Newhaven (Raoghnailt had gone thrice with her in the last year) and oh, by the way, she was close kin to Morigan, Morfyd and Gwenhwyfer, a Sparkenbane.

"So Blodwen had a thrill..." said Raoghnailt, munching hazelnuts, "her first time on the witch's lap, didstn't thou Blodwen?"

Sandy hair swept forward and hid Blodwen's face.

"Tell."

They glimpsed a wild and mirthful grin behind swishing sandy hair as Raoghnailt spun brightly to Gormglaith.

"Blodwen slashed all over Rathyen's leg!"

Gormglaith broke out laughing, swiping hand to mouth.

"Sopped 'er! So the witch said," put Raoghnailt, carrying on as Rathyen with eyes wide, "'...Flattery!'"

They were a flock of giggles as Blodwen's head bobbed.

"Tell her how many!"

Still lurking in a skein of flying hair, Blodwen flashed four fingers as Gormglaith's jaw dropped.

"She told her after," Raoghnailt said with a shrug, spooning a milky glob from the shared bowl.

"So? What did she say...?" asked Gormglaith, shaking her head.

Raoghnailt gazed at Gormglaith, spoon in hand.

"She said... 'How thrilling for thee, my bat. Thou'st scribbled the rune of a swot scollagyn.'"

They headed back through the lobby where a few gossiping scollagyn sat on a sill which skirted the light wafers. Beyond stood a clump of black clad shees gabbing in close hushes on the shallow steps below those deeply inlaid doors leading to the dens. Gormglaith furrowed her brow.

In birch nest pillywigginish Blodwen took Gormglaith by the hands and with a mute stare pulled her to a bench along the wall, shoved her onto deep embroidery and dropped between scaanish thighs to latch fast, tongue swirling. Bright eyed Raoghnailt at her side, before purple heathered hills and cobalt blue sea Gormglaith gasped, dipped her head and with straw thatch swept forward, sailed by noon on her flurt.

Later they splayed out on their sides among hills of throw pillows.

"Blairie's stern," said Raoghnailt, "but here, they go like, berserk for the splits."

"It's the Wrath teach," put Gormglaith, "after all..."

"Aye," sighed Raoghnailt, nodding with chin in hands. "So Tegan needled me when I got here. Get this... at Blairie root I lilied the ring spells, egg, one of the 'it' girls. I mean, when I pledged last year I was still a maedchen, pledge waiver and all that. Whatever. Then Tegan's like, 'This is all so sly Raoghnailt, but we both know thou'st been breezing, don't we?' When she said that, I knew I was in the jelly graft."

"So thou wast breezing at Blairie?"

"Rather!" Raoghnailt whispered with narrowed eyes and a witchy smirk. "It's what happens when thou hauntst a known tide. Some things come way fast but there're all these notions about you beforehand which means when a frisky 3245bn7 like me laps the rings at fourteen, some sharpie buzzneck is bound to look up the skinny on a few thousand of mine over-swotting twins, skip the coos and ask, 'So, why didn't the little slacker split like that when she was twelve?' It's so leeg. Thou'rt lucky to be only a second braid, Gormglaith. No way is there enough dish to like, hint th'art not hewing rainbows as wonted so they can wave it in thy face and say, 'We know what thou canst do my bat and it's for thine own meed, after all...' Yech! A little tease spins the kin! Blodwen has it licked. With her wacky tide and all those weird snaps nobody has a clue about Blodwen and when she's in a swot den on the weeknight it's likely as not got anything to do with boards."

Blodwen, who'd been idly braiding a thin lock of her sandy hair, staring blankly through a window all the while, gave them a dimpled, sealed lipped smile.

"Yeah..." said Raoghnailt as she scruffled Blodwen's hair, "the slank elf! But thou knowst my bat I'll always be there for thee when they swoon, hissing in thine ear, 'slack-er... bopsy bloody bash!'"

"Yearning," said Blodwen, still braiding.

"Hag," Raoghnailt baited back with wanton sneer.

"Raoghnailt!"

"Chill, Gormglaith," Blodwen said softly, tying off her braid.

"See?" sighed Raoghnailt. "I'm hashed and hemmed!"

The sharp clap of klompen on stone echoed off the walls.

"Fuck," said Raoghnailt.

Maevis and Paestin breezed into the nest, bane blond hair pulled tight behind their heads in pony tails tied off with white string. They were followed by Myghin and Njorthrbiartr, who was behaving moodily.

"Hey," said Paestin.

"Hey," called Gormglaith and Raoghnailt.

"We're gonna feed the blue goldfish," chirped Paestin.

"Ever seen one?" asked Maevis.

"No."

"Come with, then," they sang together.

Maevis and Paestin

"I liked thy tale about the nose rings," said Maevis as they flocked into the maze. "How's thine? Hast thou spun it?"

Raoghnailt raised an eyebrow at Blodwen as they tagged behind. In the gleaming bath of black feldspar and pink quartz Maevis and Paestin led Gormglaith to a looking glass.

"Have a glom!" said Maevis.

Gormglaith glanced at herself and whirled about to the thrushes.

"Blue goldfish!" Paestin put cheerfully. "...Scrud."

"Raoghnailt Blodwen Myghin and Njorthrbiartr fling flax," she said as they leapt from their klompen and dropped to the hard black stone floor like rag moppes, sitting upon white linen sheathed heels, thighs spread, palms set on them up and open.

Gormglaith gaped. Paestin eyed her sweetly and in a tongue slick and fallain as the smile on her fresh freckled face said,

"Dost thou have a clue?"

"I wa..."

"Shut up, 'k?" Paestin carried on airily.

Gormglaith flinched.

"Th'art a selfish clannin hag but there's hope for thee. Now that thou'st tumbled into our nest Maevis and I are going to help out, so do as we say or thy life here'll be an everlasting drudgery of chavel."

"Cool!" said Gormglaith, shrugging and nodding brightly.

Paestin cast up her eyes.

"Maevis I can't deal with this..."

"...She's heedless."

Paestin dropped to her heels near Blodwen, spread football thighs in dismay and flopped her hands on them with a sigh. Maevis, who was slightly leaner and somehow smoother than her twin, clopped up to face Gormglaith.

"Luzz flax," she whispered, forefinger warding down, "and don't talk."

Gormglaith quickly stepped out of her klompen then clambered and gathered as she could, putting hands palms up on taut thews and staring at Maevis' bighty raw wooden klompen as she stepped in close.

"Look up..."

Gormglaith lifted a stalwart chin, eyes dishing as she beheld spot on Maevis' bare cleft hemmed by the Wrath's teardrop flued, Snotrian pleat wrapped white linen longstockings.

"...further, at me."

As she did Maevis hooked a finger into Gormglaith's nose ring. The banshee shrieked, raising stiffened, clawish hands.

"Thou toldst us thou always wanted a nose ring. Spog, i'nit?" Maevis said winsomely, crinkling her eyes with a tug, "...and do keep thy hands on thy thighs..."

"Scollagyn take care of their own. We fuck or shun and don't talk about stuff like in clannin and truly Gormglaith thou dostn't wanna be shunned, all the more on thy flurt, swot 'till tha die'st. If thou backslide'st, if thou even thinkst about it, before any of thy weepy plighted sisters gets the dimmest notion we'll each and every one of us shun thee with such steadfast heed, within hours thou'lt be squirming flat on the deck, begging for even the tiniest morsel of bloody snog which thou wiltn't get. Grok?"

Gormglaith answered with a sob, tears running.

"'k, keep it back, I'm lettin' go," said Maevis as she slipped her finger out of the ring.

"Like my smell?" she asked, whisking her hillok and a whiff of natron, skin and far-off flowers by Gormglaith's nose.

"...Ta! We heard all about tea yesterday. Thou wast ladgeful and heedless. The witch had it stark for thy tummykins who had the knack to dump the lot of them and squeeze thee out for a later go but then, when she's plighted at last with the craven twin, what crawls onto her lap? Thee, the daft duck and no slinkin' swan, never mind Gillian. Was it thrilling for thee or what... clannin tease."

"Whatever," she said, hovering over Gormglaith. "Anyway chin up, close those big stalkers of thine and open thy beak for the vens hen then, 'k? There's an eager chick! Time for thy guzzle... 'n try not to spill?"

Maevis looked on high to the skylights and squished her eyes shut, upper lip quivering above front teeth a match for sparkling clunch when a fallain, wanly golden braided stream fell like salty tears in warm rooty broth and white vinegar. As Maevis' face echoed a skeinish tapestry, Gormglaith squealed agape, gasping, squinting, gulping, coughing then dripping whilst the thrush sprayed, squirting at the last, hands on hips.

"Merry flurt, scrud," said Maevis, giggling.

"Aw Gormglaith, please kiss me," she beseeched. "I know I don't have a sprout of red hair on my loopy head but I can tell, my bat, my bluegills, it's crush on the thrush, the true googiana, not some maedchen Tales of the knotty kindel grope on the back forty."

With blinking eyes crossed, her face and chest soaked, so too the belly and thighs of her linens, leading with her tongue Gormglaith grazed, then pogged the scollagyn who quickly swung away.

"Gormglaith!" sighed the thrush, shuddering with hands over face. "What I want, what everyone wants, is scam 'n eggs. Thou knowst, like what Raoghnailt's been getting not that you two even fuck," she said, eyes narrowed, head wagging. "Everyone has such spog hopes for thee, which only means th'art in the jelly graft, cogged 'n bogged like anyone else."

"Uhm, truth be told," Maevis said with her clunchy smile, "way more. Now, a swot scolly in jelly graft's a nettlesome thing but th'art a plighted swot scolly and the whole bloody teach is canny stuck with thee. Thou talkst the talk but canst thou walk the walk? At Loch henge thou luzzed thy puff at us and got the magpies in Fen Glioon all stirred up atwitter about how thou'lt spill to millions, swayin' stern fylgjic. So why not be the cabbage trigger hag and get off to a handy start then? Sway thy knotted nesty here 'n spill how a clanniner weaves a wicked spriggin o' wreath."

Gormglaith gazed at the chalken cleft of Maevis Thrush Kin Dails Sparkenbane an inch from her nose, shrugged and glued her mouth to the narrow flue in Maevis' longstockings. Glancing at Raoghnailt, the thrush gathered straw thatch in skeletal hands.

"Bloody flurt."

Later both were chasing their breath.

"Spill bright these spells we learn," Maevis gasped, "then bleed 'n bop stern, to grok in hex dreams... with bluebirds on a misty knock, by the pulling moon, bloody swots in cramp swoons which reminds me Njorthrbiartr let's show the banshee how hackled thou'st become."

Njorthrbiartr drew up awkwardly, then keeled forward as she padded across the feldspar tiles, laser straight white hair and sheer reedy limbs glowing against black stone walls, green eyes darting.

"See the tangles!" said Maevis, spinning Njorthrbiartr by the shoulders as strands flew in a fleet hint of slattag ghlass and cairmeal.

Meanwhile Myghin rose in one throw onto spindly long legs, sauntered across, briskly pulled Njorthrbiartr's wrap down about her thighs, took her steadfastly by the waist, bent the wispy scollagyn over onto tiptoes and put ten quick swats to her bottom. Njorthrbiartr bawled loudly by the fifth. Myghin yanked her longstockings back up, leaving them in rumples.

"So Gormglaith," said Maevis as she spun wailing, beaming Njorthrbiartr about again, "thou mightst wanna quack something spog like, 'Hey Njorthrbiartr! Gasping! Thou remindst me of a snowy egret! Like, perched in the old evergreen Yggdrasil tree or whatever! I mean, even if thou art a rather scritchy and nagsome scrike hag wilt thou, uhm, let a selfish scrud chick like me wobble up from this weiry nest with her heedless tease ways 'n luzz thee a wee bit of scrub? I'd be ever so thrilled...'"

A snowy egret

Blodwen hissed under her breath and flat sandy locks as Raoghnailt called out singsong,

"Oh thrushikins...?"

Maevis froze.

"What."

Raoghnailt stood in a second, periwinkle blue eyes alit.

"So Maevis, thou'rt truly stirring. I could listen to thee for hours and I know since I have done but I think Gormglaith gets it by now so why not put that clever tongue of thine to fit freayll? Jam it up my knack 'n like, wench out so Gormglaith and Njorthrbiartr can carry on as they please and thou canst draw on a bit of sweet meed."

Gormglaith broke a witchy grin as Maevis stomped across to Raoghnailt, lasered a sneer, dropped and welded her mouth to the scollagyn who swayed and glanced at the deeply hued skylights. Njorthrbiartr tapped Gormglaith on the shoulder.

"It's stark," Njorthrbiartr whimpered, hips thrusting and swaying. "I think th'art cunning and swank and I liked how thou toldst about Lizzy Sparks and the rings."

Gormglaith looked up into Njorthrbiartr's green eyes, grasped her bony hips and put butterfly to cleft, cheeks pulling. Njorthrbiartr's knees gave out and she scritched, grasping at straw.

Soon, Njorthrbiartr Solveig Sparkenbane staggered into the outskirts of Perth. To a yodelish sigh, the nimble thews in her arms, legs and flat belly threw and stiffened upon thin sturdy bones and she sobbed, setting off on salted sour berry throes astride whorling pog. The breathless scollagyn dropped to give Gormglaith bleary zombie kisses.

"Fooke!" Njorthrbiartr panted. "Bluedy nickenzie! Ta!"

They all threw flax close by.

"So there's this scollagyn oardagh," said Paestin. "No it's not in the Eachdraidh," she put, giggling with the others, "it's... hush and not meant to be written down. Scollies've been sayin' it ever since Tangwen Toreth folded up in the corner of that bloody inn in Hastings, bled herself to shreds and wove smack through the hackle of ancheisht. If tha dostn't say it now thou'lt be shunned 'till tha dost, same if tha skive'st. So fling flax 'glaithikins, we're heathen..."

In waivery tongue Gormglaith spoke twelve strings with Paestin who was canny when she botched two of them.

"Ok everybody, together now."

Raoghnailt scooted in next to Gormglaith as they all leaned forward in a ring, grazing foreheads, holding hands on thighs and shouted in seven wild and glassy tongues,

We're heathen
Swottin' in clannin
Fast to teach
We fuck or shun

We bleed and haunt bones
To wail by moon's bay
We take care of our own
Then spill 'n sway

In set throwing flax
We're scollagyn true
We are the fylgja
Sealed by the flue

Gormglaith grinned when they banded heads together cheek to cheek as one and cravenly pogged.

"'k," said Paestin, smirking and tugging Gormglaith to her feet, "let's pull ourselves together. It's thy flurt!"

"I held back after waking up," Maevis sang as she peeled off her longstockings and opened a steamy spray, "then drank three pints of bogberry for breakfast 'n clenched hard! I was gasping for a slash!"