He looks at her. His smile fades. "...I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry every time, really, but it's a rare occasion when I can productively say so."

"It helps me look you in the face that you had me facedown where I couldn't see either of you during even after my eyes healed."

...Tarro nods.

"I won't say what you did is okay but I recognize that you're in a desperately shitty situation and I forgive you."

They both bow their heads. "Thank you," Tarro murmurs.

"Well. You were a lot nicer about it than most rapists the curse could've found for me."

"I imagine that's not a high bar to clear," says Tarro.

"Mm, no, but that's not the point. The point isn't that you're--not morally responsible for rape, it's that you did not cause extra suffering to occur in my life."

Serik reappears.

"Well, your friends are thoroughly terrified," he says. "I'm almost tempted to lend you a swan once in a while if - this setup - doesn't do it."

Tarro looks up, somewhere between intrigued and concerned. "...would we be, as she puts it, causing extra suffering to occur in their lives—"

"Depends how you count it. Most of them would definitely prefer your company to mine, but I do leave them alone a fair amount - but I think I'd leave them alone more if I was lending them out to you..."

She hugs him.

He hugs her back. "Should I count that as support for this suggestion?"

"I am all in favor of less suffering occurring in peoples' lives."

"All right then."

"Thank you," says Tarro. "...incidentally, why 'swans'—"

"Oh, they turn into swans while the sun's up for magic reasons. Part aesthetic, partly as a patch to something I fucked up."

Tarro smiles slightly.

"So in that case there's no reason for me to show up even a smidge oftener than necessary to appease the curse, right?"

"Right," says Tarro.

"Good. Would've been worth it to keep some other poor girl from having to suffer that, but..."

"I'd need to know how often to bring somebody," says Serik.

"...every two weeks would be safest," says Tarro. "We could maybe afford less, but - if it qualifies as an improvement to them anyway, I don't see a reason to ration them out..."

"Sure, I can do every two weeks," says Serik.

Hug. "And it'll be at least a little oftener than that, on average, I do also have a curse to appease."

"'Thank you' is starting to feel inadequate," Tarro says to Serik, "and 'I could kiss you' seems ill-advised—"

"Maybe later," says Serik, half-smiling.

Snuggle. "Anything else we should take care of before going home?"

"Don't think so," says Serik. And to Maran and Tarro: "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

"See you," Tarro agrees, looking like he can't understand how his life has led him to this point. Maran nods, with a similar expression.

Serik and Elodea vanish on the wind. He takes her back to the mountain and straight to her very own bed, where he snuggles her.

Snuggle. So much snuggle.

She starts crying.

...he hugs her and pets her hair.

It starts out quiet and restrained but doesn't take long to dissolve into deep, wracking sobs.

He snuggles her. It's intensely attractive, but - what he wants to do is snuggle her. And hold her and pet her and let her cry on him as much as she wants.