Requiem

Requiem has been a ghost for longer than she was ever a dragon. That doesn't upset her, though. She truly believes she has found the purpose of her (after)life:
Nobody likes funerals. Best case scenario, it's not someone you were overly fond of, and attending their funeral is, to put it bluntly, an unpleasant inconvenience. Worst case scenario....... grief. Grief, that emotion somewhere between sadness and anger yet so very different than either, so much more powerful and terrible than either. You can cry away some sadness, and scream away some anger, but grief has no remedy, no cure, no outlet or release. At its core grief is a void, a place where something or someone was, but is no longer. So how is it, then, that an emotion inspired by emptiness should make one feel as though their skin cannot contain them, as though they may burst at their very seams?
There is not much Requiem can do. Being a ghost, after all, she cannot offer hugs, or words of condolence, or share in memories or tears or screams of anguish. But what she can do.....
Sometimes it is in the cathedral. As the organ plays, as the smoke of the incense swirls heavy in the air.....
Sometimes it is at the graveside. As the mist clings to the damp headstones, as the cemetery sits quietly, respectfully.....
You do not see her, or hear her, but you can feel when she's there. She wraps her spirit self around the most grief stricken, and she sings. Lullabies, nursery rhymes, ballads soothing and soft. She curls herself around those hurting souls and sends wishes that this pain will lessen, wishes of hope and peace and joy and life, sends them with every ounce of power she has.
She cannot do much, but she does what she can. She likes to think it helps.