[ Theoretically, they should all be doing the same thing. Ciri's brows scrunch up. She turns to look where he's pointing, and blinks in mild consternation at the picture in the mirror that's definitely not just a reflection.
It's her, but somewhere else, doing something else entirely:
Holding a Witcher's silver sword at a rocky shore, she spins and slashes, deftly cutting down one of the pack of flying monsters circling around. ]
Huh. [ An eloquent response, from the real Ciri beside him. ] All right, then.
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It's her, but somewhere else, doing something else entirely:
Holding a Witcher's silver sword at a rocky shore, she spins and slashes, deftly cutting down one of the pack of flying monsters circling around. ]
Huh. [ An eloquent response, from the real Ciri beside him. ] All right, then.