[Kindness can be delivered in many ways, some of them sharp, but there is a sharpness of her own that snaps back into Mithiel's dark eyes when she is ordered again. She isn't human, and isn't bound to the same rules or notions as they were. She is an ancient thing who has seen the world change time and time again, and today she is not buoyed by her usual joy and love of life. For as young as her body looks (always) there is something ancient behind those eyes that knew the world before the sun was born. Who knew darkness only pierced by starlight and fire, who had been on this ancient land almost as long as anyone ever had.

In truth, she might have been the oldest soul left from Doriath.

She takes another sip of water, watching keenly as this person stumbles over what they want to say to her–an order perhaps, or a feigned understanding? The tree rustles above them, responding to the ache in Mithiel that makes her want to scream even though she will not, one hand digging into the dirt instead.]

I could stay here until the rest of the world crumbles into the sea and the sun turns black. It would not matter if I went with it. If you are looking for lost lambs there are hundreds fleeing over the mountain pass who would welcome the help.