Trent looked over the toys, stopping at a model plane. It was a very small with a wing-span of roughly the size of one of his fingers. It probably was made out of plastic, the 2 wings were connected by struts and in the open cockpit there was a figure of a pilot. After pulling it out he put the plane down on the table again. The pilot was a minuscule plastic figure, crudely sculpted to look like a human and in a uniform colour of brownish beige. He took it in his hand and squeezed it, careful not to break it, and gave his ring the mental command.
After a few moments the figurine seemed to melt in his hand, and as he opened it, it was no longer there. Then gradually his own shape started to dissolve, loosing feature after feature turning into a slowly shrinking blob. A few minutes passed before that blob assumed a bipedal stance again. It was roughly the size of an anthropomorphic mouse or rat, but of human proportions. Gradually his clothes came to be. They had an odd shine to them, as if they were made out of plastic, as his face took shape it had the same fine to it. Finally Trent regained control over his body. He now was dressed in a turn of the century pilots outfit. A leather jacket, some strong leather boots as well as gloves and a hood with goggles, all made of of leather... or it would be... He took a better look at it and found that it was flexible plastic, like synthetic rubber. He took off one of his gloves and found a plastic hand, stiff like plastic, with ridges on the side of the fingers, but somehow he was able to move it naturally. He put on his glove again and opened his jacket which showed his chest, also made out of plastic, yet still alive. He grinned and pointed at Shawn and the biplane. It's your turn now.