"Originally I was going to kill you all, but you've been so polite--well, some of you," she says, giving the three who do not qualify a critical look.

"That's not exactly why I was polite but it's certainly a benefit I appreciate," says Tarro.

"You're very calm about this, do you have surprise magical abilities hidden in your back pocket?"

"Oh, I'm terrified, I just don't think having a breakdown will help," he says. "Milord is going to get the shakes any minute now and I'm afraid he'll get hurt up there; I would be very grateful if you put him down. I would be even more grateful if I could hold him, but I understand that you might not want either of us to have that much freedom of movement."

"Aww, why are all the terrible people I've met lately so adorable. None of the rapists I ever met back home were this cute." She casts stone shape again, gently lowering the couch to the floor and releasing the both of them from their bonds.

"Thank you," says Tarro, with intense sincerity. He goes over to the couch and sits and holds the scarred man and makes soothing wordless murmurs while the scarred man clings to him and shivers uncontrollably.

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"Yes," Tarro says distractedly.

Meanwhile the three friends are not sure whether they should be terrified or furious and seem to have settled on a mix.

"You assholes can settle down and hope I'm feeling merciful when I'm ready to deal with you," she says with a dismissive finger-flick. "This is just tip of the iceberg and you don't wanna know what I can come up with when I'm really pissed."

This mostly gets them to quiet down!

The scarred man slowly recovers from his shakes. He moves to sit up, but his friend squeezes his shoulder and he settles back down, looking at Elodea with only a slight flinch and shiver.

She prestidigitates herself clean, retrieves her clothes, and starts putting them back on. "I am sorry I let you do this to me. I realize it must feel very like entrapment."

"I assume you had a good reason," says Tarro.

"You could say that. I'm under a curse. Normally I don't tell people this but you kind of deserve an explanation."

"Thank you," says Tarro. "What do you mean by a curse?"

"I'm from a completely different plane of existence where magic works differently. When I was young I had the misfortune to run into an absolute asshole of a god and now I get raped a lot."

"My condolences," says Tarro, a little wryly.

"Kind of a funny thing to say given the givens."

"Yes." He looks down at his friend. "We... also have a reason, though I'm not sure I can claim it's a good one. I'd - rather not say too much more in front of them," he tilts his head at the three men still pinned to the wall, "but I will if that's what you prefer."

"I can't say I'm terribly attached to the idea of giving them anyone's personal information. Is there somewhere else we could abscond to or do I need to render them unconscious?"

"We can go somewhere else. I'll get your clothes, milord," and he gets up and fetches the scarred man's clothes and brings them to him and helps him put them on. He himself is already dressed again.

It would be amazingly stupid to feel guilty but she does feel kind of sorry for him.

Once dressed, the scarred man stands up. Tarro moves to steady him, but gets waved away. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he says. "Let's go have a chat in my office, shall we?" And he turns to lead the way.

She follows blithely.

The office is a short distance away, and is medium-sized and comfortably furnished, a reasonable place for three people to have a conversation. Rather than sit behind the large and very tidy desk, the scarred man takes one of the three chairs in front of it; Tarro takes the one next to him.

"I don't believe I ever introduced myself," the scarred man says. "I'm Maran Valire. Will it mean anything if I apologize?"

She sits down. "You know, it actually would."