Ranuk watched Tamlin's hands as he spoke, weaving his blade of grass between his delicate fingers. It was strangely soothing, and he tilted his head in gentle wonder when Tamlin revealed the tiny box in his hand.<br/><br/>Tamlin did not know war, he was lucky enough to be born in a time of peace, but he grew up with the stories, raised by people who were shaped by it, molded by the atrocities and anger and hatred that they carried with them. How strange it must be, to be a step removed from such an all encompassing thing like war. Ranuk realized all at once that he was of the same ilk, bizarrely enough.<br/><br/>Ranuk was born in war, but his sire used to speak of a time before. Unak had said demons had been peaceful once, hidden in their mountains and forests and fields. They were so few and long lived that they did not care for fighting or conflict. Their existence were so simple and carefree that malice and murder had been alien to them, but the High Elves had forced it upon them, forced anger and hatred and misery and despair. They taught the demons about subjugation and extinction and annihilation, lessons they would never forget. The demons had been forced to fight to survive, but now it was all that they knew.<br/><br/>Unak had once said the very same thing about war as Tamlin. 'It will kill us all, this fighting, not just our lives but our souls, our way of life. Soon it will be all that we are, and it will never end until it dies with us.' And Ranuk realized that he was right.<br/><br/>Those who had known peace, of the time before, were already dead or dying and all the new generations had left were stories they could barely understand.<br/><br/>Unak would have liked Tamlin's song. He would have liked Tamlin.<br/><br/>"I was tired," Ranuk admitted, and slowly lowered his head so his chin rested on Tamlin's stone bench, right beside his knee, "I just.... wanted to rest."