"Sure, Jon" said Karyn, holding the stone in her hand. "I wish for me and Jon to travel through time to...."
She paused, knit her brow in quiet contemplation, and finally snapped her fingers. "I wish for me and Jon to travel through time to London in the 1800's!"
Jon's protest was silenced by a blinding flash of light and a rush of wind that knocked him on his back. No sooner than he had thrown his arms up to shield his eyes from the violent gust of wind did it stop. His ears were filled with a cacophony of footfalls and street side chatter as the steady clatter of horse hooves trotted past along with wheels bounding over cobblestone.
He propped himself up on his arms and blinked sorely, cobblestone digging painfully into the flesh of his arm, and took in the soot-drenched skyline of Dickensian London. The sky was a gray and ponderous veil of ash-drenched clouds, the sun hung high above the grit and gravel: A great, squat white disc hiding behind the clouds at the apex of the sky, casting the city in shades of gray.
Karyn was only a few feet away, busy with a strained climb to her feet. "C'mon, Jon," she offered with a wide smile, her hand outstretched to Jon, "There's plenty to see!"
You grab ahold of her hand, and are pulled to your feet. Still blinking from your sudden arrival in industrial revolution London, you take a proper look around. Men and women fill the streets, dressed in an array of fashions from disheveled to opulent.
It is around now that you notice several people looking at you, words of ridicule and confusion in whispers race through the crowd. "Karyn," you suggest, "We just appeared out of thin air into two-hundred years ago wearing modern clothes. I, uh, suggest we change that."
She nods. "Okay, I wish..."
