For all that she pretended at her former humanity, it was gone long ago. She envied the living for their ability to still live out their mortal existences so much. She was, right then, a seething and roiling spirit of emotion barely contained within the skin that displayed her form.

As she stepped forward, maybe it was the fact that they were in the dream... maybe it was the influence of being surrounded by the dead, but her form seemed to shift somewhat. A kimono of white flowed around her, complete with a funeral veil. Garbed in the color of the dead, she wore an iron crown and held two iron candle-holders in her teeth, their lights flickering. Red face paint decorated her face, smeared by tears and she looked somehow... damp.

"Pretty. No need to patronize me. Even if you see beauty in the eclectic there's nothing beautiful in what I am, unlike you." One eyebrow climbed, glittering green.