Stavanger Bay Laughing Place

She and the brute eventually found each other on their paths, and Atoll did a quick, nervous dance as she approached her brooding Leviathan. The plea of new life prickled on her lips, but she held her tongue when she saw that her king's features were creased with venemous distraction. It seemed rude to be begging more favors when he already had so much on his mind, but then, perhaps he would be happy to hear of this new development.

"I am fertile," she said in lieu of a true greeting - the words were blurted mechanically from her mouth as she struggled to think of an appropriate follow-up to her statement. "M-my heat, I mean. The sea has blessed my womb, and if it is your wish, I would bring cubs of our own blood into the land," Atoll explained, falling back on her timid ways as she worked up the courage to broach this next subject.

"I am your vessel," she said quickly, the words falling like a sworn oath from her tongue. Her yellow eyes bore up at him, fervent in the heat of her devotion and the compelling hormones that now wracked her body. No matter how many times she said the words, she still meant them, but they seemed truer now than ever. "I submit myself to your will as gladly as ever - but... but if it is possible... I would still like to take Szymon as my mate."

The sentence was eked out of her almost against her will, but she made sure to voice it as a statement rather than a request. She had asked him once, and that was all that was needed. What would come of that request was entirely up to her lord.