[It's white hair. That makes Jeanne immediately wonder something; she nods immediately to bend down and take it, with a loose grasp that will allow the others their turn.
And the vision shocks her enough that she flings out her other hand, supports herself just a foot above the ground, on the fallen chair.]
A... copy...?
[Does it seem like a copy of Jeanne's hair is what this braid could be...?]
no subject
And the vision shocks her enough that she flings out her other hand, supports herself just a foot above the ground, on the fallen chair.]
A... copy...?
[Does it seem like a copy of Jeanne's hair is what this braid could be...?]