The Atoll's call rose through the night. The gangster had been taking a patrol along the Bay's borders, pausing so many feet to sniff at them. Despite that her call had tapered off into the blackened sky mere seconds ago he did not stop his patrol. He'd nearly reached the end and he intended to finish it before his made his way towards Doe. His head lowered, fierce eyes of red-orange settling on the writhing shadows of the territory beyond their western border, his black, leathery nostrils flared as he inhaled the scents around. It was clear of unwanted visitors and intruders but to ensure that it stayed that way he scratched his paw against the grass, letting the scent glands in his paw pads add his scent to the other's that littered the borders. His patrol done, he turned his back to the world outside of Blackrock Depths and made his way towards where the Atoll's call had risen from.

Arturo was not the first to arrive: there was an extremely mangy thing that the coywolf assumed was a wolf close to Doe. He thought he understood the lure. Her heat might have been abating but the scent was still an allure upon her natural perfume. He drew his salmon pink tongue along his leathery nose, trying not to linger upon it. She was not his and despite what instinct demanded of him he would show restraint. Thankfully, this was made easy by the fact that the scent was not as strong as it had been when she'd been in her full blown heat. Fiery, red-orange gaze slid to the silver draped woman — realizing that he knew neither of these wolves, though could not assume the same of Riptide. The two of them didn't share knowledge well with one another, but he hardly cared.

He wasn't his devout, unhinged counterpart. The gangster dipped his head to Doe in a respectful and gentlemanly manner, his gaze then sliding to the meats she had gathered with muted curiosity.

Riptide. The Atoll had introduced him to the pallid forest women as his sea witch counterpart and the gangster fought the urge to grimace. As it so happened he (thankfully) was not Riptide — of whom had been uncharacteristically absent for a while but certainly not enough to give Arturo hope. The pallid forest woman had claimed a seat close to him, and feeling it was rather customary, he offered her an acknowledged dip of his head though he did not speak. There hadn't been much time between her arrival and Doe's eagerness to greet their neighbor. Arturo himself did not remember being personally introduced to the Atoll but it was obvious that Riptide was ...acquainted with her. This explained why she introduced him as Riptide and not Arturo on default. He considered correcting her, wanting to shudder about trudging through this activity hearing the sea witch's name upon her and the other's lips. It was like being confused for his identical, twin brother. Except Riptide was a demon drudged up within his own mind and not a separate entity.

A coyote made herself known then, appearing from the shadows and begun to weave a tale of goddesses, mortals and magic. In a way, it kind of reminded him of the stories his mother would tell him when he was younger, but Arturo took the moment to study her having never met his coyote father and therefore had never seen a full blood coyote with his own eyes before. Her story finished with the goddess winning in the fact that the mortal would spend the rest of eternity paying for her hubris. Arturo was silent. He wasn't very good at story telling and doubted he'd be able to recount any of his old “bed time” stories anyway.

Szymon appeared after Lagertha and Doe had shared their stories, a second child trailing after the light coated Cairn man. Yet, as the other girl had settled near Atoll this child went out of her way to put distance between the Cairn, his mate and the other girl. Going so far as to approach Arturo himself who watched the girl draped in obsidian broken by her white throat and the soft peppering of grey upon her back, with shy ocher colored eyes. For a moment he was left breathless, for while she did not physically resemble any of his grown children he was reminded so much of them at her age. It made Arturo realize with a sudden and overpowering pang that he missed being a father. Of course, he was still his children's father but they did not need him anymore, not the way that young pups needed their parents. If he had to guess she was about three to four months old; still plenty young.

The gangster's hardened gaze softened as he ducked his head towards her, fixing her in his fiery red-orange gaze when she plopped her little bum down before him and whispered her greeting to him. “Hello child,” The gangster murmured in his deep voice, lowering his own volume, an amused albeit warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips. If there was one thing that Arturo had a weakness for it was children. He was pretty sure that if he had any sort of redeeming quality it would be his own children. His paternal instincts were not something that would ever go away, and it was quickly apparent that those paternal feels were not limited to his own spawn.

“I am Arturo,” He introduced himself to her in a consistent volume to his greeting, tuning out everyone but the child who had appeared to have given him her undivided attention. “We're sharing stories little one,” He informed her, unsure of if she'd been told about the activity or not. He, himself, had nothing to tell: stories were not really his forte (and truly he was bad at bedtime stories, too). “You can share a tale with the group, too, if you'd like.” He encouraged her softly, though he would not push. His own children had loved making up stories and sharing them with ...anything that would listen. He'd once heard one of them telling a story about a dragon to a tree (or perhaps it had been an imaginary friend); but it was her own comfort level that mattered and if she did not feel comfortable sharing then, of course, Arturo would accept that. He only thought he'd do the fatherly good thing and encourage her in case she might want to share.

The child introduced herself as Chusi complete with a polite little bow of her head in a manner that Arturo found to be quite adorable and also commendable. Manners were something that the gangster put much stock on and the fact that the girl had showed them appeased Arturo greatly. “It is a pleasure, Miss Chusi,” Arturo murmured to her, giving her a fond look. She had arrived with Szymon but the gangster understood that the girl was far too old to belong to him and his new mate: the Atoll. Yet, he did not see any parent for no doubt if she still had her's they would be lingering close by. He almost asked her where his parents were, but the opportunity was lost when a sprite of a young woman approached them. For a moment, the gangster's shoulders stiffened with tension, torn between keeping his composure and placing himself between the startled child and the stranger. Yet, she had been invited for she smelled of the neighboring pack, and she did not show any hostility towards Chusi, which eased the gangster's stiff posture seconds later. Deducing that she was not a threat to the child, Arturo took a moment to study her, and her fascinating coat patterns. Her coat was ink and scarfed with silver. Arturo was nothing if not appreciative of beautiful things and there was no doubt that the woman speaking to Chusi was beautiful, strikingly so, the gangster admitted to himself.

And when she sung! Her melodious voice was just as beautiful as she was. Arturo was struck and captivated. The gangster's head rose from Chusi as the girl did her own little jig to the Donnelaith woman's song, her tiny butt wiggling in an amusing manner that made a soft, affectionate snort of amusement leave Arturo. “Very elegant and beautiful, Chusi,” The gangster cooed to the girl, showering her with his attention and praise as he would have his own daughters. He was helpless as she unintentionally exploited his weakness. Oh yes, he saw his children in her but he also didn't (recognizing that, of course, she was not his child). It made him want more children with a fierce longing. It had been easy to ignore when his focus had been intent on claiming the Isle and then on being useful to Skellige while he (Arturo) planned and tried to deal with the parasite that was Riptide. Arturo barely noticed that Doe herself had begun to dance to the scarfed woman's song, joined by the pallid woman who sat close to him, Chusi and the dark, scarfed woman. His gaze went to her for a moment to see her swaying to the beat as well.

“I'm more of a spectator than a dancer, I must admit,” Arturo admitted, his attention focusing upon Chusi once more when she pleaded to share her story. Despite that she hadn't strictly been speaking to him Arturo murmured encouragingly: “Go ahead, Chusi. Share your story.” all the same, his head rising a moment later to offer @Lotte a charming grin.