"Will-bes, might-have-beens, and wishful thinking," replied a voice beside him, and there was Emma, solid, clad in white and with hair so impossibly blonde it looked almost silver. "Whatever I want them to be, actually. Oh, the ones that are echos have more autonomy than the rest, but they're all still me and I am them, and I have the control."

All of them stopped, suddenly, to turn and look at them before vanishing completely with a wave of Emma's hand. "They make lovely camouflage, if one doesn't mind occasionally being reminded of poor fashion choices."