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The water in the cistern vanished before Perry's eyes -- no. The amount of the water diminished, it shrank before his eyes, before the potion all went down through the drain and the water went back to its normal size. Riddle or not, the observations were pretty obvious even if there was weird-a** magic involved: he'd just gone and dumped a shrinking potion. Well, s**t.

"The liquor potions are shrinkers!" he announced to the group, jogging away from the cistern and back over closer to the doors. "Corvus, you think you can toss yours down to me?" He took his fishing hat from where it was hanging below the back of his neck and held it out; a makeshift parachute for falling objects.

"Are you sure?" Devi asked her teacher. She took a look at the cistern to see what his experiment may have proven. "Did the water shrink before? It could have been killed by the poison." Devi thought for a moment: how could water be killed? That wouldn't make sense. "Or, it could have been purifying itself from the poison."

She didn't want to correct her teacher, but she also didn't want to take the risk of losing him. He was the closest thing to home that Devi could recognize in this strange place. But with the ceiling falling down, it looked like unless they escape soon, they'll all be toast. Or panini-pressed would seem more appropriate.

She looked around the room for other escapes and her eyes were attracted to the miniature doors. Perhaps they had a way to safety. Curious, Devi made her way to the small door closest to her and investigated it, crouching down and squinting her eyes to get the best look she could.

For Vanessa:

The cloth still waved in the darkness like a battle flag and -- as she squinted further -- the keys were pock-marked around the bottom, flea-bitten, a few of them chunked out and rusted so that she could see -- they were hollow? It seemed as though the ends of the sharpened 'stake' part were covered in tiny holes. The smell was invisible but assaulted her nostrils, making her dizzy, making wriggly coloured lights jump on her pupils.

The noise was still there, insistently.

Vanessa was feeling quite sick.

For Polaris, Corvus and John:

The doors were generally identical, barring minor chips and dents. For Polaris the key seemed wedged firmly inside the lock and would not give. It seemed as though something was preventing it from coming out -- perhaps it had swollen inside the lock, but it was stuck fast. Yanking, turning and coaxing did no good. It rattled around a bit in its hole but otherwise seemed unwilling to leave.

The keyhole was your cartoonishly keyhole, a wedge dominated at the top by a cylinder.

The panelled door was painted white, and seemed scratched. In some places it seemed as though it had been repainted, but in others somebody had got lazy and never finished the job.

For Corvus the room was dim and the doors ghostly white slabs coming out of that darkness. The words she'd seen before were still scratched, in their hysterical graffiti'd way, on the opposite side of the wall where she was looking. Now she could see the comment about coffers too. The walls seemed to be dented, from what she could see, in much the same way that the door had its slight nicks and cuts.

For Devi and Perry:

The four small doors were miniscule. Up close they weren't as tiny as they'd seemed from far off, but they weren't much bigger than at first glance -- half-a-hand, no bigger. Its details comedically dollhouse tiny with a filament that was recognisably a key beneath the small doorknob. Unlike the big doors, these small ones looked well-kept, fresh and unharmed.

[Polaris, John, Vanessa and Corvus all can see movement in the ceiling. It is dropping. You have five more turns.]


Polaris and Van are bleeding lightly. There are three broken bottles and five empty bottles. There is Europa's corpse covered by a sash. Corvus holds the purple potion, now miniscule, in her belt, as well as a bottle of clear water. Five potions remain.

The ceiling is dropping, though this is only noticeable to the giants. They can see movement on the ceiling.

Drunk potions:

Red
Blue
Teal
Black
Beige

Spilled:

Puce
White

Yellow
Pink
Green
Purple (carried)
Orange

You may still:

take
investigate
uncork
drink
recork
empty
fill

"Bleeding?" Vanessa blinked when John caught her arms in his hands, vaguely aware of the slightly sticky feel of her own blood as it was transferred to her arm, and then shrugged. "I've been doing that a lot lately."

She spared little concern for this. Super Van led a dangerous life. Bleeding was an occupational hazard.

Right then, she had far more urgent things to deal with. The ceiling was moving steadily downwards; slowly, but surely, pushing the sharpened keys with their hollow centres closer towards her face. She was sweating. It was invisible in the dark, but Vanessa could feel the preparation as it streaked down the sides of her face, along her hairline. She felt awful and, having decided that John's advice was probably very good, collected a corner of her cape (a section that was not covered in dried blood) and covered the lower of half of her face with it. Her movements were very slow and deliberate. She was trying hard to focus; forcing herself to resist the poisonous effects of the peppery scent.

"They look like spikes," she told him urgently. There was a distinct pause as she pushed herself even further, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge exactly how ill she felt. Vanessa had been sick before. She was certain that she could do this.

"The keys are hollow," This was only a little louder than a murmur. Vanessa cleared her throat and then, blinking rapidly, said; "some of them are in pretty bad shape. The clock sound is still there."

Vanessa couldn't be sure, but she thought the sizzling and clicking might have been getting louder.

"I REALLY don't feel very good." This was a warning of sorts.

It would soon be time to return to the ground. Super Van couldn't deny her need for fresh air much longer, but she wondered if she shouldn't grab something while she was up here. It seemed like so much trouble to return to the floor with nothing to show for her efforts.

Should she try and take the cloth, or attempt to pull a key out of the ceiling? Decisions, decisions.

"Doors down here look like they're in good shape," observed Dr. Westerman, who had put his hand against the wall for the sake of size comparison. Verdict: tiny. "Whoever was in here last, they might not even have tried 'em."

When John Liddel's hand hit the floor as a makeshift elevator, Perry was, at first, obviously a little wary of the idea. The notion that he was about to go for a ride on someone's hand had a way of evoking flashbacks of all the bugs, rodents and other small creatures he'd ever handled, except in an attempted inverse. The careful climb over his fingers and onto his palm was odd, to say the least; he made a point to stay focused on the topic at hand instead of dwell over his position on one.

"You ever read this book called The Indian and the Cupboard, John?" he asked conversationally, during his careful ascent. "I sort of feel like one of those goddamn action figures."

Stranger yet was being parked next to Corvus's sash where the potion had been tucked into, and being tasked to retrieve it. "Mind holding still for a couple seconds, Corvus? If I can get this off you myself, nothing's gotta break."

John decided that it was time for her to come down and, while Vanessa was undeniably relieved and shamefully eager to have her feet back on solid floor, she told him;

"Hold on a sec," and, trying both to breathe and not breathe, attempted to take the cloth from where it waved at her in the darkness at the same time John started letting her down. She looked very green, but also pretty pleased with herself. Even if she hadn't managed to grab the cloth, she had been helpful.

Polari's offer was heard, and very much appreciated, but not responded to immediately. Vanessa wasn't sure she could trust herself to speak just yet.

"No." Corvus seemed disoriented as she spoke, possibly in response to the various voices talking about things that were in her possession (the purple potion, specifically), possibly because of the way the doors stood out, almost as if they were coming in as the ceiling came down. Was that it? Had they missed something in that aspect? Was she going mad?

We're all mad here.

"No." She said, sternly this time, gloved hands forming fists as she sidestepped John's hand and Dr. Westerman's reach. Perry likely had whatever it was that had distracted her to thank for the fact that she hadn't just whirled around to knock into John's hand as she would have normally if someone, anyone got that close to her hips without asking permission. "I don't care if we're in this together. I don't trust you enough to just hand it over, or let you take it and I don't dislike you enough to watch you die if you're wrong. Not yet, at least. If we don't get one of these doors open before the ceiling gets too low it might be in all of our better interests to just drink the poison... But not now. Not when I have some sort of say in it. "

Her small outburst was pushed aside as she turned her attention back to the second door she had investigated, running her fingers over the key in an attempt to see if it would turn... The first one she had looked at clearly seemed as though it was jammed, even if she hadn't tried to turn it.