"Stop twisting my words into something they're not!" Calabell snarled at him. Looking down at the golden ring on her finger, she twirled it idly, going over the description engraved upon it silently in her mind. The flowing script was inscribed in the Aether Elf language, more specifically the dialect that the Bright Elves spoke, that of Clarion.
"Bright Elves of golden sun,
Dusk Elves of grayish moon,
Shadow Elves of night's blackness.
Superior above all others."
These were the words engraved upon it, the only real indication of her home plane and people that she still possessed. Calabell read the words again, as she had done so many times before. Even though she had long since committed the inscription to memory, the gold band was a precious piece of home that she would never give up. Ever.
Looking back up, she said to the other elf. "You may have forgotten our people's motto, but I have not. I know that we are above the other races. Not just because we are ageless, but because of who and what we are at our core. You may try to show me that this is not true, that things are not what I believe, but it is an ingrained truth common to all our kind. It is not so easily forgotten or pushed aside as though it were meaningless. Perhaps one day you will remember this and come back to your senses."
Calabell sighed wearily. "As for being miserable, it....cannot be helped. My fate has been delivered, the cards have already been dealt. And I will continue to deal with it as I have. It is a shame that more of us are not down here, perhaps then we could create our own community together, our home away from home. Things could be normal again."
Her eyes hardened to look like steel. "But it is not to be."