The demon made a low noise, something rumbling but not a growl; there was no malice in it.  Just a sound of contentment, tiredness, some combination of the two...  and then he shut his eyes, and asked the prince to sing.<br/><br/>Tamlin could feel Ranuk's breath on his knee, hot and rhythmic.  He tried to think of what Ranuk might like to hear-- something soft, sweet?  Something happy?  Something sad?  What might his future husband enjoy...<br/><br/>"Alright...  A star song, then."  Those were religious psalms dedicated to Variel, the weaver in the sky who watched over the sleeping earth. and made a new tapestry each night.  Tamlin didn't think Ranuk would mind, the demon looked half-asleep, and it would count as worship for the evening...<br/><br/>He started low and quiet, a whispery praise of the sky and the little lights sprinkled across the deep blackness.  It was warm and admiring, full of adoration as the volume grew just enough to reveal the melody: fluting, lyrical, sparkling like the stars in reverence.  The words were a mix of ancient elvish and newer forms, combined in an archaic way, but that added to the charm.<br/><br/>It wasn't a long song, meant to be repeated in a prayerlike fashion.  Tamlin sang a few verses, looking between the stars he was singing about and Ranuk's relaxed form; part of him was surprised the demon appeared so comfortable, both because he was on the ground and with the child of an enemy... But they weren't supposed to be enemies anymore.