[This is a familiar scene. Doug's seen more than one movie and he's certainly read the books. He'd think that his dreams would be more realistic than this. Then again, he does seem to be sharing them with other individuals.
He picks the cup up gently, looking it over. There's only one door, and it's small. The room is showing him nothing he might be better off being larger to access.]
The cake made her larger... [He picks up the plate now. Squints. A napkin or a bag would be handy right about now. Then he could store this easier. He might need it later.] The drink made her smaller.
[And oh how he hates that he might have to go through with this, but he doesn't see another alternative. Still holding the plate, he takes a small drink from the cup.
It's a lot more painful than it looked in the cartoon. He almost drops the plate as his body seems to fold in on itself. Somehow he manages to keep a tight grip on it, and it shrinks along with him - just as he'd hoped. It's awkward, but he still figures he should hold onto it in case he needs to get back to his regular size.
He also should have done this closer to the house, he realizes, as now that he's so small the door is a lot further away. Moving toward it at a brisk pace, or at least as brisk as he can go without losing the cake, at last reaches the door and its key. Unlocking it and pushing it open of course reveals...]
Oh. Hello.
[That he has company.]
b. tea
[Well, this is quaint. Riddles. He excels at riddles. After all, they're just another language. A code to solve.
Which is why when Doug reaches for the card and the answer doesn't immediately become clear to him, his brows knit together into a heavy frown. He'd been about to boast of his skills, even, but now he's glad he didn't get that far.]
I, ah...
[The mutant gently nudges his tea cup away from him. The food. It's always the food, and he should know better. It's probably been drugged, if there isn't just something in the air.
He hates not being able to think clearly. Not having any physical powers, his mind is his strength.]
I suppose we can both take a shot at this.
c. just like harry potter
This isn't even how it happened in the book!
[Doug's not sure why he should feel affronted by this, as nothing he's been through in this dream so far has been exactly like it was in the Alice in Wonderland books, but somehow the scenario he's in now seems like the worst offender.
They weren't even being started off as pawns, though arguing that detail would be counter-productive.
Well...]
...Dibs on the queen spot.
[Might as well play along. It isn't as though they'll have much choice.]
d. not myself
[He hates this.]
[To be fair, he's hated most of the rooms he's been through up until now, but this is the worst. Doug does his best to try and focus on finding a way out over anything else. He's thankful for the simple things, like piles of books to represent all he's learned, words in all languages scrawled on the walls. He's less thankful for what many of the words say.
Tendrils of techno-organic life curl around a sword on a pillow. He looks elsewhere. A seemingly innocuous laptop sits open on another shelf and he won't turn back that way at all.]
Doug "Cypher" Ramsey | Marvel Comics (Earth-616)
Oh come on.
[This is a familiar scene. Doug's seen more than one movie and he's certainly read the books. He'd think that his dreams would be more realistic than this. Then again, he does seem to be sharing them with other individuals.
He picks the cup up gently, looking it over. There's only one door, and it's small. The room is showing him nothing he might be better off being larger to access.]
The cake made her larger... [He picks up the plate now. Squints. A napkin or a bag would be handy right about now. Then he could store this easier. He might need it later.] The drink made her smaller.
[And oh how he hates that he might have to go through with this, but he doesn't see another alternative. Still holding the plate, he takes a small drink from the cup.
It's a lot more painful than it looked in the cartoon. He almost drops the plate as his body seems to fold in on itself. Somehow he manages to keep a tight grip on it, and it shrinks along with him - just as he'd hoped. It's awkward, but he still figures he should hold onto it in case he needs to get back to his regular size.
He also should have done this closer to the house, he realizes, as now that he's so small the door is a lot further away. Moving toward it at a brisk pace, or at least as brisk as he can go without losing the cake, at last reaches the door and its key. Unlocking it and pushing it open of course reveals...]
Oh. Hello.
[That he has company.]
b. tea
[Well, this is quaint. Riddles. He excels at riddles. After all, they're just another language. A code to solve.
Which is why when Doug reaches for the card and the answer doesn't immediately become clear to him, his brows knit together into a heavy frown. He'd been about to boast of his skills, even, but now he's glad he didn't get that far.]
I, ah...
[The mutant gently nudges his tea cup away from him. The food. It's always the food, and he should know better. It's probably been drugged, if there isn't just something in the air.
He hates not being able to think clearly. Not having any physical powers, his mind is his strength.]
I suppose we can both take a shot at this.
c. just like harry potter
This isn't even how it happened in the book!
[Doug's not sure why he should feel affronted by this, as nothing he's been through in this dream so far has been exactly like it was in the Alice in Wonderland books, but somehow the scenario he's in now seems like the worst offender.
They weren't even being started off as pawns, though arguing that detail would be counter-productive.
Well...]
...Dibs on the queen spot.
[Might as well play along. It isn't as though they'll have much choice.]
d. not myself
[He hates this.]
[To be fair, he's hated most of the rooms he's been through up until now, but this is the worst. Doug does his best to try and focus on finding a way out over anything else. He's thankful for the simple things, like piles of books to represent all he's learned, words in all languages scrawled on the walls. He's less thankful for what many of the words say.
Tendrils of techno-organic life curl around a sword on a pillow. He looks elsewhere. A seemingly innocuous laptop sits open on another shelf and he won't turn back that way at all.]
I suggest we keep moving.