Delia blinked as she came to. The first thing she registered was the pocket watch still in her hand. It was as if nothing had changed and she was still in her study, standing and examining the watch. However, her peripheral vision had shifted. Instead of dark brown tones shone upon by the warm candle light, she was met with bright sandy colors and noise… a lot of noise. It was so much noise at once she was barely able to recognise any of the sounds at first.

She heard voices. There were so many speaking at once, it was as if she was in a market. She heard whinnies of horses, along with the clapping of hooves and the creaking and bustling of wood much akin to the sound of carriages. Carriages? Horses? Delia couldn't believe her ears.

When she raised her gaze, she realised she had heard right. She saw people around her bustling about a sandy road with wooden houses on each side, painted in all kinds of colors. The women wore long gowns that had become out of fashion centuries ago, fastened with corsets. Delia was most fascinated by their individual hair styles. Almost all of them wore curly braids and it was as if the wealthier they were, the higher and more extravagant their braids and buns were. While they looked beautiful and colorful each in their own way, the men downright resembled clowns. She saw men in glaring colored coats with matching leggings and knee high stockings. And their hair was almost scandalous to her, if they could ever be considered such. Some of the men wore white wigs, making them seem older than they actually were. The same rule about the hair seemed to apply to them as the wealthier they seemed, the bigger and more outrageous their wigs became and the frillier and brighter their clothing was. Those who were poor were clothed in simple ruggish clothing and wore no wigs at all, and if Delia was honest, they looked almost normal to her.

"Watch it!" A man shouted to her left and she spotted a carriage coming her way, immediately taking a few steps back into safety. When it passed, the people she had been staring at were now glaring back at her and the place seemed to become quiet.

"What is she wearing?" Someone whispered. "A woman wearing pants? Outrageous!"

"She appeared out of thin air!"

"Must be a witch, I say!"

They were beginning to surround her, seemingly amazed and appalled by her as she was by them. They didn't get the chance to come too close, however, as another man's voice sounded in the distance, followed by a sound of several people marching.

"Make way!" As they dispersed, she was approached by uniformed men in white clothing and red coats, all wearing dark triangular shaped hats barely covering their white wigs. They were led by a man dressed in similar fashion whose coat was the color of a navy blue instead and embellished by golden buttons, revealing him to be of a higher status.

"Madam," he greeted her and paused to muster her. Whatever was going through his mind his stoic face didn't reveal. "You are hereby arrested for witchery."

"Witcher- what?!" Delia asked incredulously as two guards passed by him from either side and proceeded to grab her arms.

"Don't touch me, clown!" She struggled furiously and was able to release her right arm for a moment. And she took the opportunity to point her finger at the blue coated man. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

The man raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a strange look, before answering, "I am afraid not, Madam." Then he gave the guard to her right a nod, signalling for him to seize her again.

"Let me go right now or I will drag your ass to court and make sure you'll spend the next years behind bars for harassment and deprivation of liberty!" She spat as she kicked at the men holding her. The man to her left grunted in pain as she buried her pointy heel into his foot, releasing her as he raised his leg to hold his injured foot. She then spun around, twisting the other's arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground as she pressed the back of his hand towards his forearm.

As the man in blue was about to move, she cut him off with a warning. "Back off or I will dislocate his wrist."

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it and lowered his gaze to observe the guard whimpering beneath her.

"Now," she continued and his eyes snapped back to hers which revealed a golden hue as she glared at him furiously, "whatever this shitshow is, I am not interested. And if you don't leave right this instant, I will press charges against you and all these other costumed monkeys who so much as touch me."

"I'm not sure I follow, Madam." The man cleared his voice. "You wish to press charges against me? Do you, by any chance, know who I am?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Delia scoffed, although a look of insecurity flashed across her face for a split second. This man seemed so sure of himself that she began to doubt herself. She had assumed she had ended up on some kind of movie set or convention, but now she was not so sure anymore.

"Well, you should, Ma'am, because I am James Norrington, Commodore of the British Royal Navy."

Delia frowned at the man, giving him a look as if he was stupid. "There is no Commodore. There are captains and admirals, but no commodore since-" the 19th century, she ended with a thought and it dawned on her. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped at the realization as her gaze wandered to her pocket watch in her left hand she still held tightly.

She had been sent back in time.

"This can't be real," she uttered to herself as she slowly let go of the guard and stepped back, clutching the watch to her chest with a look of shock and horror on her face. Suddenly, everything seemed to make perfect sense. Her sight began to blur as she had trouble breathing, her legs shaking and slowly giving away. She heard muffled murmurs around her and registered the commodore talking to her, unable to discern what he was saying, as her legs finally gave out from under her with her consciousness slipping.

The fall, however, never came as she felt two arms catching her, before everything went dark.