So apparently I need to rethink this whole randomly falling through the wormhole scene because I've just been spun around three times.

This Elle woman is as sweet as diabetes inducing frosting, but the things she's telling me about my parents and about their history together is too much for my feeble mind to handle in one sitting.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Let's pump the brakes on this. "This is crazy- even for my standards. How do you know so much about my parents?"

"I told you, I knew them, particularly your mother."

Rubbing my face, I let hot air blow through my fingers as I let out a breath. "Yeah, yeah, I heard, but are you trying to tell me that my mom fell down the same hole I did?" There needs to be warning signs around that bush or something then if that's the case.

"She did, it's the truth."

While we talk, Oslen goes about doing some chores along with the jumping bean whose name is Marlowe evidently. Eathelin goes back outside to presumably play by herself with her doll and the little boy in Elle's lap, Camus, squirms and flails until he's finally let down to roam the floor at our feet. Life's happening around me but I seriously need a time-out from reality right now.

"Oh, I wish Coxen were here to see you," She said dreamily. "He would have loved to meet you."

"Coxen?"

Marlowe pipes up. "Uncle Coxen is the best uncle in Edalirwen."

Before I can ask, Elle explains. "My brother travels often, he's the chief guardsman so he makes his rounds throughout the provinces to uphold the peace. He always makes sure to visit us, though."

"How'd my mom get back if she fell through that hole?"

"Sephora."

"Sephora?" All these names to keep up with.

She smiles fondly (I'm certainly taking her down memory lane). "I'm not entirely sure how she met Sephora, but she was a godspeed to all of us. She's an enchantress so she created a potion for your mother to use in order to return home. She's a rather clever individual. She also visits from time to time as well."

"Uh-huh." I've never felt so discombobulated before- it hurts to sort this all out.

"So," Let's get all our ducks in a row. "My mom fell through the hole then you and your brother and this Sephora person befriended her and...how did my dad come into the equation?"

She places her folded hands on the table, looking a little trepidatious. Her smile isn't as strong but she makes it look so effortless.

"Your father was...he was the king and your mother and him- I'm sorry, did I say something out of-"

"Yeah," I interrupted her by getting up from the table so quickly. "I can't."

Concerned, she stands as well. "You can't what?"

I burst out laughing, half serious, half I don't even know how to feel.

"I can't. This ain't the Princess Diaries, and I'm certainly no Mia Thermopolis." I see I've lost her with my jargon. "My dad can't be a king here because he wasn't even born here. He was born in Transylvania in the regular class or whatever classes they have over there."

I see she's still a bit lost, but she's also giving me an "Oh, honey" pitying expression that looks so genuine on her Disney princess face.

"Is that what they told you?"

"Uh, yeah, and that's the truth. I followed you when you mentioned my mom and all but this is too outrageous, even for me."

"My dad, a king, okay."

I'm taking this as my opportunity to bounce. These people are nice and all but she's freaking me out with the amount of information she seems to know about my parents and the crazy "facts" about my heritage. But just as I'm stepping through the doorway, I ram into someone coming in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, forgive me for such carelessness-"

"No, no, you're fine, it was my bad," I regain steady footing then look at the man I ran into.

He kind of has the same meek face Elle does- the scholarly DIY looking glasses on his face not helping overcome his goody-goody appearance

"Olivos," Elle chimes from behind. "This is Joan. You would never guess whose child she is."

Fixing his frames, he thoughtfully thinks about it. "I'm not entirely sure. Is she a guest?"

"She's Mallory's eldest."

Like lightning, his eyes flash with awe and recognition.

"Are you sure?" His eyes widen as he looks between me and her.

"I promise you she is."

He has a rather shy but cute-because-it's-clumsy smile. "This is unexpected but wonderfully unexpected. I am Olivos, I knew your mother when she-"

"Yeah, she told me," I just need to get out of here. "I have to go now, though. It was nice meeting you and hearing stories about my parents, really, but all good things must come to an end so-"

"You can't be leaving," Elle frowns, disappointment written all over her face. "Where will you stay the night?"

I shrug, something so common of me. I don't have plans, at least not immediate plans- the plans I do have are long-term goals. But hey, I'm taking life as it comes to me.

Unsurprisingly, they're concerned- most adults are when they see how I handle things- and begin pressing me to stay the night.

"It would only be for one night," She practically begs.

Olivos joins in with the pleading. "I wouldn't have a clean conscience if I let you leave. Please tarry, just for a night."

They have a point.

Firstly, they don't strike me as the homicidal couple who torture people in their basement so that's something, secondly, they sound like they actually knew my parents, making me a little more trustworthy of them, thirdly, call me sexist or whatever, but she seems like she can cook some good meals and I need food and a bed for the night. Based on these three criteria, I cave.

"Alright, but just don't bring up ridiculous stuff like my dad being a king and whatnot. Other than that, thanks for the offer."

They both let out a sigh of relief in sync with each other.

"We are glad to have you," Elle replies with warmth.

After that, they thankfully don't bring up any more weird stories about my parents- though, if I'm being perfectly transparent, I kind of want to hear more about. Instead, my time is mostly spent entertaining Marlowe, the never-ending battery child.

I see so much of myself- an even more uncensored part- in Marlowe that I don't understand how anyone could deal with me when I can hardly deal with her. She's a good-humored kid, just too high maintenance for me- and that's saying something.

"I think you're lying about falling through a hole in the sky," She says to me as she helps fix up where I'm sleeping tonight.

"Oh, yeah?" I glance up momentarily at her then return to trying to adjust the sheets to my liking. "Well, I'm not, and you can stop calling me a liar because I'm not."

"So, you're trying to tell me you fell through a hole and teleported here?"

"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

She flops right in the middle of my cot because, you know, screw my progress.

She grins up at me, so lost in her own amusing world. "You can't be fourteen? You lie about everything."

Picking up a pillow, I bop her but she simply giggles- it's hard to dislike her but she's just so damn irritating, like sand up your bikini bottoms.

"I am fourteen and I did fall through a hole, and just for the record, my name is Joan so don't question it."

"You look like a woman, you can't only be fourteen."

"Yeah? Well you sound and act like you're five," I counter with my hands on my hips.

"Oh, good, I try."

"Dammit, it's hard to dislike this kid!"

She gets a smile out of me on that one and I plop down on the bed that she and Eathelin share.

"But really," She sits up, sounding somber and all now. "How are you only fourteen? You have the bosom of a woman."

Now, I can't help but laugh out loud at her innocent comment. I guess that's what made it more precious, was seeing the total pureness in her face when addressing my healthy endowment.

It takes a minute but I eventually rein myself back under control to answer her.

"If I had a dollar for every time some mistook my age...God, I can't. Look, let me be real with you, I can't control this and as much as I wish my knockers were as small as yours still it's never gonna happen- I'm stuck with these unless I choose to surgically remove them, but it's not worth it. Every female on my mom's side is bountifully proportion and it gets worse- or better, however you look at it- each generation. I feel bad for my granddaughter; she'll be whipping out a triple D before high school. So, there you have it, it's a bummer sometimes but I can't do much about it."

Poor child looks like she's been on the carousel one too many times during my talk. It's okay, though, she probably shouldn't get it.

Eathelin comes in at that point to alert us that dinner is ready so Marlowe moves onto more appropriate topics such as her tomboyish victories and adventures as she jumps off the bed.

It hasn't slipped past me that Eathelin's already the little black sheep of this herd- there's just something eerily off about her, nothing bad, just a little distant and not as outgoing and adorkable as the rest of her family. I guess it's a little uneasy being around a six-year-old who's as sober and jaded as a gravedigger while her older sister acts like caffeine is the only thing to drink around here. But hey, she can do her.

After washing up, we join the rest of the family at the table where green-ish soup, some beef stroganoff or something or other, and some fluffy looking rolls are laid out. It's a tasty looking spread and I'm always grateful for some well-cooked food.

"So, Joan," Elle politely speaks up. "What does your mother do with her days?"

I'm assuming she means work, but I'm just hoping this doesn't lead down the rabbit hole like it did before- they promised though.

"She's a travel agent." Yup, don't really know how else to jazz it up.

They nod like they understand but I can tell they really don't. Marlowe, not surprisingly, voices her confusion.

"What's that?"

"She helps people plan their vacations and whatnot and organizes thing for trips, that kind of stuff. Can you pass me another roll, please?"

Olivos asks what I already assumed would be asked next. "What about your father?"

Stuffing a piece of the soft bread in my mouth, I answer. "He trains horses. I forget the proper title for it, it's like eq-equi- it's training horses basically."

"That sounds dangerous," Marlowe comments.

"Dangerously fun," I shoot her a smirk and wink. "He's actually pretty good with animals, especially horses. He talks about how he used to have a horse when he was younger. Crap, I forget the name- he used to talk about it all the-"

"Atlas," Elle states.

Officially weirded out again.

"You said you wouldn't bring up the weird, crazy crap," I argue, trying not to lose my mind.

"I'm sorry. Your father had a horse named Atlas, I remember him. He was the swiftest, most beautiful horse you would ever want to see. After your father left, Coxen took the best care of Atlas until he passed."

"How come you don't know anything about your parents?" Marlowe unhelpfully questions.

Her mother rightfully gives her a scolding look before I answer.

"I know things about them, the real things."

I'm not really buying this whole spiel at all. No matter how much they know, no matter how determined they are to prove to me that they're right- and they're not- I'm not swaying one inch. This is too crazy to be real.

"Never mind the matter," Olivos waves his hand dismissively. "It's not crucial."

I thank the Lord we can let the subject drop without having to bring it up again during dinner.

It's only until getting ready for bed that Marlowe brings it up again.

"My parents talk about your parents sometimes- especially my mother. She said your mother was the closest, most respectable friend she ever had."

Shedding my clothes, I change behind the screens before emerging with a grimace.

"Yeah, just don't assume I'm as respectable as my mom."

Yawning, she stretches out, getting comfy.

"I haven't from the start," She expresses casually.

Pausing, I turn to look at the girl who wears a coy, sleepy grin.

"If I didn't like my little brother like I do, I would exchange him for you, you know that?"

We share a grin then bunker down for bed. She gets under the covers with her younger, more standoff-ish sister while I occupy the cot at the end.

I don't know how the time-space continuum works here, but if it's night time back at home I hope no one's panicking about me being gone. Honestly, I don't think many people would be surprised by that- concerned, of course, surprised, not so much.

Screw it. I only live in the moment and I'm exhausted, I don't have time to wonder about what's happening at home, so I promptly pass out.

It's just in my DNA to wake up before the sun, or anyone else in my family, has fully woken up itself. So as I swing my legs over the edge of the cot, rubbing the eye boogers out, I'm a little surprised to see the other bed is completely vacant. Apparently, I'm not the only early riser here.

"Did we wake you?" Marlowe peeks her head around the screen upon hearing me awake.

I get up to stretch. "Nah, I usually get up at this time."

"Good," She disappears behind the screen again.

I'm not a huge dress fan and since that's all the females here seem to wear, I decide to go check and see if my clothes are dry enough to wear instead. Thankfully, hanging up overnight in front of the fire did the trick and I'm able to wear my normal clothes for the day.

Just as I emerge from the bedroom, I come across Elle starting on breakfast.

"Good morning," She greets me in that sweet voice that Snow White would envy. "I hadn't anticipated you being awake yet."

"I'm an early bird- the earliest in my house."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I run in the mornings."

Cracking the eggs, a dash of confusion muddles her face. "Run? What do you mean? Why?"

"More like jog, but yeah, I run in the mornings because it's usually not as hot."

I found her question kind of odd but the lost look on her face is even more confusing- like she honestly can't picture or understand what I mean. So I go into further detail.

"I jog in the morning because I'm a runner."

"You run for leisure?"

"And competition."

The eggs sizzle as they're poured onto the heated pan. "Interesting."

"Need any help with anything?" I ask, trying to be helpful since they did house me for the night.

"If you would like you can set the table."

Only asked to be civil but I guess it won't kill me.

Nevertheless, I set the table for breakfast, where eventually, we're all gathered around to enjoy the hearty breakfast prepared. If it wasn't for me and my jarringly different clothing, this might be an excellent picture of the perfect Disney household, if one ever existed.

"So, Joan," Elle begins. "What are you going to do about returning home?"

I finish drinking my milk before answering with a shrug. "I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out."

She exchanges a worried glance with her husband who speaks up next.

"Perhaps if you need any assistance we might be able to locate Sephora to aid you on your journey home."

"You make really good biscuits," I comment, more enveloped in my meal than getting home in a timely manner. "Yeah, I guess if that would help."

They exchange another concerned look with each other.

"Well, you're not much like your mother," Elle begins with a small, uneasy smile. "All she talked about was returning home- at least the first time she came here."

"How many times did she come here?"

"Only twice, but she came back voluntarily the second time."

I want to ask but at the same time I don't. So I don't. I chow down, that's the best thing I can do.

After breakfast, I start helping Elle clean up with Eathelin assisting as well, but when Marlowe comes skipping in she interrupts the flow.

"Mama, we've run out of meal for the chickens."

Elle wipes her hands. "Did you check the box?"

"None in there either."

"Ah, well, you and Oslen should head down to the village and get some more. While you're at it, we're going to need some more barley."

"Okay," She brightens. "Can Joan come along too?"

"Only if she wants." Elle glanced over at me. "You don't mind, do you?"

If it gets me out of cleaning up then nope.

"It's cool. I'll tag along."

"I'll tell Oslen," Marlowe sings happily as she hurries out the door.

So, after getting Oslen, Marlowe pulls us along to the village. I've noticed how she's never quite calmed down, like, at all. I guess the term ADHD hasn't been coined here yet. It's not like she's a talkaholic, she's just overly hyper (not that, I, of all people, should be judging). Then you got Oslen, who's pretty tame compared to his off-the-wall sister. He's going to turn out to be one of those nice guys who's always used and cheated on and stuff- he would if he lived in my universe.

"What's your universe called?" He asks, giving me that cautionary expression, not know what might come out of my mouth.

"Universe, I don't know. Galaxy, the Milky Way. Planet, Earth."

"Your galaxy is called...the Milky Way?"

His face- I could just frame that precious thing.

"Hey," I hold up my hands. "I didn't name it, don't look at me. But honestly, it's called that."

He blinks then shakes his head as if to clear the nonsense from his thoughts.

"You're going to be looked upon strangely," He says. "The way you're dressed. It's not common for a female to wear pants."

"Well, then, it's good to see I still blow people's minds wherever I go."

Marlowe, who's been skipping along the road ahead of us, pauses to look back with a grin.

"Oslen, let's race!"

He sighs. "Marlowe, can we not for once? I'm not in the-"

"I'll race you."

They both look at me with different expressions. Oslen is slightly taken back while Marlowe is in heaven.

"Okay! On my count," She calls out, getting ready.

This'll substitute as my jog for the morning- except it's a run today.

Leaning forward, I wait for her signal, the adrenaline already pulsing through my veins.

"Three, two, one, go!"

Poor kid. I didn't even try to play fair on this one. She didn't know what she was getting into, she just wanted an amiable little race where we'd act neck-in-neck until we reached the village just a few feet ahead. God, I'm terrible. I don't do friendly, warm races, I am always in it to win it, no matter what, no matter who, no matter where- competition is 87 percent of my biological makeup.

My mental timer is pretty accurate and I'm in the village in under thirty seconds. It wasn't even worth breaking out in a glaze of sweat.

Where was this magic when I was trying out? Not a freakin' clue.

I end up waiting by the entrance of the village, leaning against a house while I wait for the two slowpokes to catch up. Marlowe gave up running about halfway here and Oslen doesn't even bother. But they both are now on the same page facial wise when they finally arrive.

"How do you run so fast?" She asks, eyes wider than saucers.

I smirk. "Magic."

"Really?"

"No," I snicker. "I don't know how to explain why I'm fast. How do I explain that?"

Before she can reply, her brother joins the awe spectacle.

"By the Fates' name, I've never seen anyone run as swift as a mare."

"Did you just compare me with a horse?"

He stumbles a little, afraid of offending me, but I simply tip my head back in a laugh. I've been called everything. Racehorse, Nascar, sonic wave, bullet, rocket girl, I've heard it all.

"It's fine," I pacify his worries. "Let's just get this chicken meal or whatever."

Oslen drops the matter while Marlowe continues on it for a little while longer until we arrive in the main square.

They weren't lying when they said I'd be given strange looks. I kind of expected it, especially seeing how I was received yesterday. I mean, it's nothing new for me so I roll with it. I mean, no one- Marlowe and Oslen included- says boo about it so we stroll on till we arrive at the place needed to buy meal for the chickens. Marlowe and I let Oslen handle the buying of things while we goof off.

"You see that woman over there?" Marlowe points her out to me. "The one by the foundation?"

Peering through the crowd, I spot the young woman she's talking about. She's pretty from this distance and she has a Cinderella look about her (what's with this place and its Disney goodness vibe?).

"Yeah, what about her?"

"That's Miss Myrlard, she comes by our house sometimes and teaches us how to sing and weave baskets. You ought to meet her."

Though she looked like the typical sweet type, I wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone else right now. Unfortunately, Marlowe wasn't really making it an option, it was more of a command.

"Come on," She yanks me along.

So I have to act semi-sociable and- let's be real- not be my everyday weird self when meeting this chick.

"Miss Myrlard! Miss Myrlard!" The young woman looks up from her work to notice us. Marlowe's never out of breath despite always being off-the-wall. "This is Joan. She's a guest at our house and I thought you two ought to meet."

Myrlard's exactly as I typecasted her to be: sweet, docile, and as meek as a mouse- nothing bad, just not the type to understand the likes of me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thanks."

What else can I add to that? I've never met this chick and this was kind of on the spot. She looks a little like a deer in headlights due to my sudden arrival, but at least she tries- which is more than can be said for me.

"Where are you from? You're a guest, correct?"

"Yeah..." Do I tell or let it be? "I'm from far away, you've most likely never heard of it."

"Oh," She smiles and nods her head as if I mentioned a specific place she knew. Everyone's too civil in this place- I'd get too bored here after a while.

After a string of pitiful, polite questions, I decide to nix this conversation before it can blossom any further.

"Okay, it was cool meeting you," I begin, getting up. "You seem nice."

It might just be my overly imaginative mind but she seems relieved to have an end to this entire exchange, yet she remains agreeable.

"Thank you. It was a pleasure meeting you as well."

"Thanks."

At last, I break away. Too much social interaction is simply unhealthy for my soul, it's medically diagnosed with me.

"Don't ever do that to me again," I tell Marlowe as we return to where we left Oslen.

She frowns, not understand. "You liked her, didn't you?"

"Yeah, she was all flowers and whatnot but I'm not good at interactions like that."

"Why?"

"Because it's just my-"

"-somebody please help me?"

It registers in my ears first while the recognition is delayed.

Marlowe stares at me, not understanding my pause as I incline my ear to listen to the voice coming from close by.

It's hard to pick up since there is a swarm of other noise all around me, so I get up and hurry in the direction of the voice, not wanting to lose it for a second just in case I'm not actually hearing figments of my imagination.

"Where are you going?" Oslen has reappeared and is following along behind his sister who's trailing after me.

"I thought I heard something..."

I hear it again, that voice, it's close.

"What is this place?"

Elbowing past people, I finally break through the crowd, and lo and behold, I hardly believed my ears, much less my eyes.

The dark haired boy who is currently talking to an elderly man finally faces my direction as I cup my hands and yell his name through the market noise.

"Brent?"