The last she remembered, she was standing in front of a mirror, eyes trained onto her own imagine within it. Shattered sight, as it were, was giving her notions she never thought possible. When she arrives on the bridge she is holding a very sharp, very cursed, kris dagger in one hand just above her chest. Her breathing is ragged and she hasn't taken her eyes off of one spot on the wall in particular.

When she comes into her own, whether that is from world hopping or otherwise, Belle is suddenly distressed. "Where I am?" She keeps a firm grip on the handle of the dagger but lowers it so that it isn't on the offensive anymore. She stumbles forward catching the side of a wall, her expression wrought with worry. "This isn't--this isn't the Storybrooke." Her free hand comes up to her forehead, gripping at it as if she's experienced a bad headache.

"Oh no, Rumpel. What have I done?" She murmurs to herself, her eyes starting to tear up. "Please someone just tell me where I am."