Brazen. Bold. Oh dear, Emerson if Marcelo could only hear your thoughts now! He runs a hand through his brandished gold hair, trying to keep his grin as minimal as possible because it would seem to only infuriate the girl further. But try as he might, he really just couldn't seem to keep that wolfish grin from sliding onto his lips as he continued to watch her curiously. He so did enjoy the rush of meeting someone new, whether it was an easy meeting and the pair wound up as friends, one full of fire that the other (certainly not Marcelo) stormed off, or the rush of how Marcelo felt whenever he made a big steal.
Young muscles had been pushed into action as he took up a light jog heading out and away from his village, over the next one, and over the next. The tall blades of grass tickling his legs as they reach up as if in an attempt to stop him from doing what he was bout to do. The boy with brandished gold hair then slows his pace as he moves around the village houses. This village, closer to the main town, was far wealthier than his own, and while he does not look upon with envy for himself, he feels it for his family, for he knows they deserve a beautiful life such as this. Those rich chocolate eyes gaze around, looking for the horse that would win him the race.
And there she is.
A wolfish grin, not so unlike the one he wears so often these days of present, spreads across his face as he realizes the mare remains there entirely alone. How perfect. With footsteps quick and light the boy made his way over to the mare, whose ears flicker forward as she spots the boy. "Easy girl," he said in those light, steady tones, wild smile still all over his dusty face. Dark eyes stare at the beautiful mare before shifting to find something to tailer the horse to himself. A rope hands on the makeshift fence and he grabs It quickly before throwing it around the mare's neck. "You're coming with me," he says before pushing open the gate and leading the mare away, through the villages and back into his home. A fierce smiling signaling his pride, for he knew he had won. Whatever consequences should come of this act, Marcelo hardly cared. He had wanted something, for himself and his family, and he had taken it without asking. And the thief could not help but feel pleased with his accomplishment, and think about his bed of floorboards and sheets awaiting him, knowing his task had been completed.
Flashes of the memory attempt to climb their way into his thoughts. It wasn't often ow a days that Marcelo thought of home, but occasionally those memories would pop up, at the strangest of times, piercing his day to day living. Those night dark eyes wrinkle slightly with humor as he gives a small shake of his head. "No, not really, never found them necessary," he says with a grin. At her next words, Marcelo leans back in his seat as he places a hand over his heart as his face shows the emotions of hurt, though of course the impish twinkle in his eye is a dead giveaway of the display being entirely false. "You hate it? But I really put a lot of thought into it," He says, giving a fake little pout. "And it really just rolls off the tongue."
Deep rich eyes watch with amusement as her speech pauses. "How boring," he responds. Eating alone was no fun. Marcelo feels a hint of a smile touching his lips. Technically the jackal never ate alone, he always had someone with him, they just always happened to be dead, and happened to coincidentally always be the thing that was supplying his dinner. Once he had become a were, Marcelo lost a lot of the taste for what would be considered human food. Preferring instead to eat his meet right off the bone, found or caught himself, and in his jackal form. Though, thankfully, he never seemed to have lost his enjoyment of alcohol. Now wouldn't that be a tragedy?
Will she take the bronze haired boy up on his offer for her to leave?
Dark eyes are nearly shining with a dare that he is simply dying to see if she will perform. But as she continues to sit there, the man with hair like brandished gold narrows his rich chocolate eyes slightly, wondering why she simply didn't just change booths. He promised her that he wouldn't follow. She remains silent and the boy with brandished gold hair offers the blonde woman no others words, just that silly grin all over his face causing those earthen eyes t crinkle slightly with humor. He simply could not help himself, Marcelo had always been the type to look for trouble, never waiting for it to find him.
"Well you never invited me over!" He exclaims with a wolfish smile, mocha eyes bold and unwavering as if he truly believed that was a good enough reason to approach someone. Even when Marcelo was expressing mock hurt towards the girl, his voice continues to stay smooth in those tenor tones of his. "You mean you don't find me to be your prince charming? Well, shoot," he says, moving his hand in an 'awe shucks' type of fashion, but still that wicked smile never leaves his lips, even when he tries to act the part of a shamed puppy, dark eyes continuing to almost glitter with profound amusement.
The dark eyed boisterous boy with hair like brandished gold grows quiet as the waitress comes over to the pair. Still a cheeky smile resting on his features. The blonde calls out for a to go box as the waitress peels away from the table. "Awww, leaving so soon? But I thought we could have some fun," Marcelo pouts dramatically. And really, he did want to have some fun, one can only party by themselves for so long before it becomes quite tiring. "What do you say to another chance, and I take you out on the town tonight?" He asks with raised eyebrows. "No offense, but you seem pretty...." he chooses his words carefully, unintentionally ruffling that brandished golden hair of his before continuing with his words. "Tense," he says with a grin of amusement. He leans closer. "No ulterior motives, I promise. Just fun," he says as he leans closer, mischievous gleam to those brown eyes. "Dont waste your youth," the immortal teenager says as if he has any sense of passing time, but regardless those deep chocolate pools hold a special dare intended entirely for the woman before him.
Marcelo Lucas Rumeirimage by Vincent van Zalinge