Most of the time he is not connected to his own body. At best, it is an unwieldly vessel by which he experiences life, clumsy to exist in, though it glides easily through the world, he notices. He knows it is pretty, as he has been told, and he understands this. He maintains it, so it may continue to be an asset he makes use of. Adorns it with décor -- charms, jewellery, and eyeliner, as if it might make it any easier to connect to the flesh. It helps that his elven longevity does a lot of heavy lifting in that regard.
He has suffered blows and magic that should have debilitated him from the pain and damage. It's not that he has a high pain threshold. It is more like he isn't in the body to feel the sensation. He wonders if others feel like this. Is this how all bodies feel? Do celestial bodies feel disconnected from body and deity?
Today, he is only dimly aware of anything beyond the body. Far too grounded within the flesh to extend his awareness to the external world. The spine feels tender, fragile, and from there, a strange ache radiates through the rest of his body. Today it is painfully his body. There is a thrum that pounds behind the eyes, in time with the ever present heartbeat of something... not his own.
If he listens long enough, he can find his own heartbeat, somewhere beneath his ribcage, almost dormant. Perhaps he was dead a long time ago. Perhaps he carries on, his body piloted for him, for this sliver of his consciousness to stir every so often to present within the meatsuit.
If only.
He imagines that it is less jarring to exist in the endless deep sea of stars. He imagines that his physiology was simply not designed for this plane of existence, and by remaining here, the body decays, tethered by the innate mortality of the material.
He does not know what that is like. He likely will never know, nor make it to Heaven's Gates.