Eight hours prior.

Running herself to the bottom of her own personal well when it came to energy was nothing new. In fact, it was something she'd been doing longer than she could remember.

No matter the season, she beat sun rise by at least an hour (most often two). More often than not midnight would find her in the middle of some project or chore when at home.

Under normal circumstances, the only hint she had that she'd reached the end of her rope was the out-of-nowhere need to find a semi-comfortable place to curl up and actually sleep. Apparently, she'd reached a new level of normal. She'd felt, weighed down for the last couple of days. Amethyst eyes had been gritty and tired, reluctant to open again, even after blinking. If she wasn't standing, with nothing to lean against, there was a very real likelihood of her dozing off. There'd been a lingering dragging feeling in her joints and limbs that she couldn't stretch away. Couldn't work out completely.

For a girl who was determined to experience as much as she could, this was definitely something new. Something different.

All in all, she wasn't sure she liked it.

Nor was did she have the skill set to deal with it. So she did as she normally did, pushing through each day until the need to sleep for a few hours drug her down. And each morning, the fight to drag herself out of bed became more difficult. More of a struggle.

Until tonight. Tonight she'd found herself biting back the urge, the need to whine over each step between herself and her bed. Sulked over her usual routine and the amount of time it kept her away from the embrace of down pillows. Caught herself before she could stamp a foot in protest over brushing out her hair.

Finally. Finally! Fresh from a shower, her hair still heavy with water, braided back to keep it from touching her face in the night. A thin, much loved, sleep tank and a pair of men's boxers serving as pajamas, she did something she never did.

Stripped off every bit of her jewelry before crawling into bed to snuggle down under layers of quilts she'd made between silky soft cotton sheets. Her breathing evened out, coming slow and deep, before she'd done more than sprawled out on her stomach. Sleep dragged her down before her bed warmed.

Since when was Thorn too busy to pick up the phone? Surely the woman was usually doing something too unspeakably productive for Pharlen's taste, but she'd never known Thorn not to answer her calls, particularly when she had agreed to take Desdenova for his month off of school.

As Pharlen arrived at the rancho, she found herself staring at Dae as the man plowed under a field. She'd never seen him actually work. Usually he was irritably watching as Thorn took over his job. Her dogs were happily following the plow, chasing varmints and birds as the plow churned up earth.

Desdenova's little camp site near the house was spic and span, neurotically so. Pharlen looked it over, amused. He certainly didn't inherit that careful neatness from her. Definitely from his father.

As Cianan had said, Thorn's kitchen was a disaster. Pharlen stared in horrified shock.

"She must be dead," Pharlen murmured, but as she inspected the carnage, she began to suspect that in fact, Cianan was behind it. Snorting, she went to Dae's chore board and added 'clean the kitchen' to his list.

Pharlen was not domestic enough to clean anyone's kitchen, and had a maid for her own, thank you very much.

The bedroom was suspiciously dark, and draperies were suspended from the ceiling. Pharlen stepped in and frowned as she made out Thorn laying on her back on the bed.

"Thorn?" she called briskly.

As she watched, Thorn sat up rather jerkily. Her head lolled and a hand lifted to wave.

"He-llo." Thorn replied, curiously stilted, "I am fine I am slee-ping."

"Uh huh," Pharlen replied, narrowing her eyes. She reached to turn on the light, but the bulb had been removed, "You're sleeping."

"I am sleee-ping." Thorn agreed, her head and upper body bobbing. She seemed to have difficulty straightening back up. Pharlen smirked, resting a shoulder to the door frame.

"Where's Desdenova?" she asked, lifting an ivory brow.

"Des-duh-No-Va Is is Outside with Dogs. Des-duh-duh Des is doing Good! Des is having Fun." Thorn announced, her arms moving rather randomly, almost gliding, around her.

"Outside with the dogs," Pharlen repeated, enlightened, "Very good. Well. Thorn. Seems you have everything in control here."

"I ha-vuh ever-thing In Con-Trol." Thorn bobbed again, and this time lurched to the left heavily, and kept going. Her right arm flailed.

"Time To Slee-P." Thorn added.

"Thorn! Spider by your head!" Pharlen yipped.

This brought about more bizarre flailings, Thorn lurched and reeled, he head lolling alarmingly, and without warning, there was a boyish yelp. Instants later, Desdenova fell through the draperies and hung there, like a spider caught in its own web.

Pharlen pressed her lips together, arms folded over her chest. A moment later, the boys iPad fell to the bed. It was open to a voice synthesizing program.

"I'll give you points for creativity, angel baby, but next time, use recorded phrases and put the speaker on the chest. And be heavier than the puppet," Pharlen noted as she finally stepped forward to untangle her son from the elaborate marionette rig he'd built.

"Ah Mooommm," Desdenova fretted, going into her arms as she lifted him down and clinging to her unhappily, "I don't wanna haveta go home. I'm having fun."

"Honey, if you've done all this and she's still asleep..."

"But I'm takin' care of her, Mom!" Desdenova insisted, moving to give his mother the best effect of puppy dog eyes that he could, "I make her go to th' bathroom an' eat an' everything. Cianan bathed her."

Pharlen rolled her eyes, amused. She could understand what it meant to the boy, though, to be the caretaker for once. She kissed his brow and set him back to his feet.

"Alright, as long as you make sure you're back here before ten, and you have Daisy. Why don't you rebuild that rig and this time, use counterweights. Do a good job and we'll show Dad, he loves marionettes." Pharlen chuckled, squeezing him warmly.

"Counterweights and phrase recording and the speaker on the chest, okay!" Desdenova beamed, returning the hug. "I love you Mom!"

"Love you too, baby. Have fun."

Pharlen shook her head in amusement as she left. Sure, most parents would have told him to remove Thorn from the marionette rig. But Thorn knew who Desdenova's parents were when she invited him to stay.

Cianan was just smiling at his handy work as he tossed the hammer onto the ground. Hands placed on his hips as he slowly circled around his creation, a carefully crafted and painted box. Decorated with golden trim and a cherry stain, it was quite a lovely thing, especially when the lightly frosted glass caught the light that was breaking through the leaves. Probably a good thing he'd watched all of those Home and Garden Network shows with Thorn, and actually paid attention. There'd been a few mistakes and a few re-works, but this time it was perfect. He'd even taken the time to line the inside with fake roses.

Thorn was sitting near by, still locked in whatever torpor she'd fallen into. He had no idea what had happened to her, and he wasn't getting any responses. So, what to do?

With his bakery failing, as so many others were around. There was just no call for other special orders. Cianan was only baking to bribe his sister. The other side jobs were just a bit of a hassle, and currently he was in possession of a wonderful opportunity laying here before him! Thorn was currently dressed up in a lovely lavender dress, some like pink trim to it. Cianan had dug it out of her closet, probably from something long forgotten. He'd even found a matching corset to fit, and draw in the waist a bit more, though honestly she didn't need that much help.

Cianan was soon hefting Thorn up, and carefully laying her into the box. Legs shifted, bare feet. Hair was carefully re-combed back into place. He'd have to find someone to come and maybe touch up the make up. He'd left the pink lips quite bare. He just smiled, and carefully closed the lid to the case.

"Um. Cianan? I mailed these fliers you wanted." Ah! He turned, looking at the floppy hatted boy with an arm full apprehension. Cianan just gave him a sharp toothed grin, and mused his Panda Hat. The lanky boy, wasn't entirely trusting of Cianan.. at least for this venture, "Are you sure we should.."

He was cute off quickly by a wave of his hand, "Yes, yes! It'll be fine!"

"I'm still not.."

The Drow sighed, "I'll cut you in for fifteen percent."

"Twenty five." The bratling chirped!

"Done."

The bridge of his nose was pinched. They had to get ready. Soon the princes would come, they'd have to bribe the evil Drow to let them have their shot at kissing the beautiful maiden to awaken her from her slumber. Or, if they couldn't afford the kiss.. they could negotiate a deal, maybe half just to cop a feel or so. After that, Cianan would be checking to see which of said royalty, dukes and landowners already had wives and maidens at home that would like to know about their woodland flirtations with unconscious maidens.

Cianan rubbed his hands together, and grinned for the profit about to be raked in. Thorn was the perfect lure!

"Hello, little Desdenova," Mist murmured, a warm smile lifting, as the odd little lad plopped himself on the front porch of the inn. Though Mist was in a mood as bright as the morning, Desdenova was a little storm cloud, grumping his way up the steps to flop unhappily beside the lanky elf.

"A bad morning?" Mist hazarded, reaching over to pat at the knitted panda hat the boy wore. In answer, Desdenova shoved a flier into Mist's hand.

"...Er...What is this?" Mist asked, frowning at the text. He had quite a way to go before he would be able to read common with ease, though he spoke it quite well.

"Uhg. Okay, so? Thorn, my sister, keeps sleeping and sleeping, totally Lunestra bunny, right? And Cianan, my brother? He made this cabinet thing and put her in it and now he's trying to get princes and stuff to come and practice kissing on her or something," Desdenova blurted out, snatching up a flier and making a sloppy paper airplane of it.

"...I ...I had wondered where Thorn was, but the rest... I'm afraid it makes not a bit of sense to me," Mist admitted slowly. It happened more often than he liked to admit, words were said, he understood them, but not in the way they were strung together.

"Don't you know the story of Sleeping Beauty?" Desdenova asked the man skeptically. Mist shook his head solemnly, his lips quirking with amusement at how preternaturally aggravated the little fellow was.

"Ugh. Okay so like there's this king and queen and they have a baby girl and everyone's all happy, right? And they invite these fairy godmothers to the Christening. That's when they name babies," Desdenova explained, horribly put upon. He threw the airplane, which promptly crashed. Muttering, he began to fold another.

"Okay." Mist prompted, watching the plight of the folded paper in amusement.

"So, the fairy godmothers are like witches and they give all these cool gift spell things to the kid. Like she'll be super gorgeous and super smart and stuff. Only this other fairy godmother, who didn't get invited because she's evil, shows up all pissed off because she didn't get invited, hello, because she's evil. Fairy tale people are stupid and totally psycho, so you know," Desdenova scoffed. Mist took the paper he had and began to fold it as well.

"It would seem so."

"Well, it's all this history stuff about how stuff was said but hidden and then there was moral stuff and meh, whatever. Anyhow, so here's the evil fairy godmother having a total cow and she curses the princess saying that when she turns sixteen she'll prick her finger on a spinning wheel and die, because she wants to prove she's a moron or something."

"There wouldn't be much of a story if she just cursed the poor infant to die then," Mist pointed out. Desdenova made a face.

"Yeah, okay. Well, the last good fairy godmother alters the curse instead of removing it, cuz reasons, and now the princess will just prick her finger on a spinning wheel and sleep forever until true love's kiss wakes her."

"That would seem to be rather counterproductive," Mist sputtered, carefully manipulating the paper as Desdenova pitched a better folded airplane. It swooped away and the boy started work on another.

"So the princess turns sixteen and sure enough, pricks her finger and falls asleep. And so does the whole kingdom. So a hundred years later, this guy shows up, a prince dude, and he walks in and omg loves her without even knowing if she likes Justin Beiber or something, and kisses her and bam, she wakes up and loves him and they live happily ever after," Desdenova went on, making horrible faces as he spoke.

Mists shoulders shook with amusement as Desdenova reported all this to him.

"So have any princes shown up to kiss the sleeping beauty?"

"Yeahhhh a few, squidly guys that squealed and ran away 'cuz I made it sound like Thorn farted before they could get all mushy mushy on her. That's gross and unsanitary," Desdenova admitted smugly. Mist choked on a laugh.

"I see."

"But... I dunno, maybe it would work. You're a prince, aincha?" Desdenova asked, peering intently at the silvery circlet Mist wore. Mist seemed mildly surprised, his hand raising to conceal the head band.

"What makes you think that? This is just a circlet, lad."

"Cuz you act like a nice prince, not one of those human calamari," the boy pointed out, dark brows lifted as he peered at Mist intently. Mist smiled, shaking his head and concealing his discomfort well enough.

"Well, I can go and look at her and see if I know a spell which might help," Mist offered, handing the re-folded paper to Desdenova. He tugged at a sharply folded angle, and the paper opened into a fluttering bat. Desdenova seemed more into bats than birds.

"Ooh neat thank you!" Desdenova chirped, happily taking the paper toy and busying himself with making it fold and pop open for several moments. He finally stuffed it into his back pack and snagged Mist's hand.

"Okay, come on!"

And in her sleep, the oddest dreams flitted through. Danced across her mind to flicker against the inside of her eyelids.

Confusing vignettes that had damn well better not wind up being prophetic. Interesting little side trips of possibility and fantasy, not all of which it seemed were hers.

With no awareness of the passage of time, and less of her whereabouts, the redneck's unusually deep slumber, continued.

Though as dawn was closing in, staining the eastern sky with gold and pink, she began stirring.