It.. [Hmm. She pauses a moment, her brow scrunching as she feels around for the right phrasing. Because Mithiel doesn't think she is worth more or especially better than anyone, not elf or man and certainly not Elia. But it is difficult to avoid saying things, true things, that feel like they are rubbing some sort of superiority in her face.

After all, Mithiel is already older than the sun and the moon. If nothing unfortunate happens to her she could live until the skies turn black and the world crumbles and she will always be young and fair, healthy and hale. And if the unfortunate does happen to her she knows exactly what her fate will be, and that she can be rebodied and go on much like she is now.

She frowns.]

I do not want you to ever think that the difference between us makes me think I am better than you, or anything like that. I feel... I don't... I love you, Elia. [And it is hard to know how long they will be separated, and sometimes she forgets how easily life goes for her in comparison... and she just feels guilty in a way she never has before.]