Stavanger Bay and the earth with its starkness

The horror unfolded quickly and without the option of escape. Atoll watched as her master's expresison changed before her eyes, became openly hostile and clearly displeased - something she'd previously never seen directed at herself. A feeling of hopelessness snuck into her heart in the presence of his ire. She had angered him, and his anger was righteous. Little moments flickered through her mind, standing out in sharp relief in the way that hindsight always allowed. Atoll had been lazy, preoccupied, unprodutive. Although she'd done her best to prepare for the blessing, could they ever really have too many rocks? And had she spoken to the sea enough to know exactly what to do, or had she been content to rely on the moment to lead her?

The woman despaired. She had failed her master, and she did not know whether she could stand it if he were to cast her from his sight.

Falling low, she shut her eyes against the power of his judgement. "I will not make the mistake again," she said lowly, fervent in her repentence. "I will focus on my task, my lord."

Atoll did not ask for forgiveness - she did not deserve it. Though her love for Szymon was great, her devotion to Skellige was greater still, and she had lost sight of the fact in the excitement of her feelings for the pallid male. Now, though, she would rectify that situation - if only her lord would allow it.