Those golden eyes close in satisfaction, hidden behind the honey hue of those eyelids. One is flicked forward, focusing on his dinner, while the other one simply flops sideways lazily. Sure, he should pay better attention to his surroundings, since Marcelo is certainly not the largest predator within Sacrosanct, but that is neither here nor there in Marcelo's world. And then those golden eyes pop back open, gleaming in the darkness as if illuminated. His paws continue to readjust around the dead animals as he peels back the fur, having no interest in consuming such a thing, he may be a scavenger, an opportunist, but he was not some vulture nor a hyena. He had standards.
Ok, let's not be ridiculous.
He gorges himself happily. To Marcelo, this act was as natural as walking, eating, or breathing. Killing and feeding were apart of his life and had been long before he became a were. The boy with earth toned eyes had not grown up with the luxuries of modern day, mainly for the fact that Marcelo had been born in 14th century Spain and to a village farmer and his beautiful wife. The boy with hair like brandished gold had learned where the meat to their dinner of vegetables and fruits had come from at an early age.
Pointed ears twitch and turn as he continues tearing through the flesh of the poor, injured animal that had not stood a chance against the jackal. That charcoal nose is overwhelmed by the scent of fresh meat, and had the dog been capable of smiling no doubt a grin of amusement would have passed over his face. Lips part once more as he practically inhales another piece of meat. But as a sound reaches his ears, a sigh of sorts, his mouth only covers the animal more so, as paws even move to hide his kill, his whole physicality letting whoever appeared know that this meal was HIS and his alone. Golden eyes flicker upwards to watch who would dare to interrupt a predator gorging on his meal.
Amber eyes catch sight of her, and a growl rumbles through his throat, telling her to stay away, the feral side of Marcelo taking over, the animal pushing away those human emotions. Those eyes shine like fire in the night and they never leave the intruder. Crimson stains his mouth, his checks, and even his neck, blood from his meal. But as the girl speaks, Marcelo realizes she may have no intention of stealing his meal after all. What is even more surprising is her voice rings towards him with crystal clear clarity, unlike humans normally sound like when he is in his were form. Jaws part as he releases the dead, nearly eaten animal as he realizes what she has said to him. Tongue rolls from his mouth as he pants for just a moment, though he makes no effort to clean any of the blood from himself. "I was hungry," he says simply, a snide remark in his tone, quite deceptively believing that the fae creature would not hear him. Golden eyes take in her point ears, the smell that wafts from her. Despite having lived over five centuries, Marcelo had run into very few fae creatures in his life, and he found himself intrigued to be meeting one here of all places, in the woods as he fed himself.
Ears prick forward as the creature clicks her tongue and Marcelo gathers her in with that feral, yet strangely humorous amber gaze of his. He was curious why she would be so upset over him having hunted his prey. Jackals were predatory animals, though they were smaller than the other wild animals native to Africa, lions, leopards, hyenas, so they had to take what they could get. This typically meant things like leftovers, or killing off the weak, the ones that were not able to run away. Marcelo had never been interested in giving another a free pass. Food was food, that was all that was his concern. And though the rabbit had hardly stood a chance against the quick footed jackal, Marcelo would never voice guilt over the matter, for the simple fact that he felt none. His belly was full and he would continue to live without hunger gnawing in his stomach, and that was more than enough reason to kills and consume whatever he possibly could.
Marcelo shows his teeth towards the woman as she bends down, fearful for a moment that she was going to attempt to take his food, paws move closer over his kill, desperate to keep it for himself. But then she does not take his food, quite the opposite really, instead she makes mention of giving him a carrot, again speaking in those tones that clear as day to the jackal. Amber eyes look at her once more, unblinking, staring, wondering if this is all a trick, a ploy in order to take his food because apparently it was 'mean' of him to kill the weakened animal. In truth, if Marcelo hadn't killed the the injured rabbit, another predator would have, and perhaps they would not have delivered that swift bite to the jugular, ending its life quick and nearly painlessly.
Obsidian nose twitches as she rummages through her bag, seeing if he can catch any scent of the foods he may enjoy and to prepare himself lest the woman pulls out a weapon to use upon the were. She holds the carrot out to him, and had Marcelo had the ability no doubt a wolfish, mischievous grin would have come across his features at this point. "I was always bad at eating my vegetables," he says with a playful growl in his throat, before he figures it may be time to end the charade of his were appearance and show the fae Marcelo's other half.
The jackal shifts before the girl's very eyes, body lengthening, face shortening as he comes to stand on two feet once again instead of four. A devilishly handsome boy standing before the woman instead of the shaggy dog. Bronze hair atop his head instead of fur covering his body. Lastly, eyes of amber slowly turn to a chocolate-honey until finally they retain their earthen hue Marcelo had been born with. A wide grin upon his masculine lips. A hand brushes through his messy hair as the deviant's eyes wander downwards to his lower half. His chest is bare and tanned, his pants are missing, but at least during this change he had managed to keep his underwear, those boxer briefs a pale blue. But of course, Marcelo shows no signs of shyness, instead he bends over and grabs the carrot with his hand, raising it up to his mouth, boyish grin still cover his mouth. "But, you know, it's never too late to form new habits, right?" He jokes before snapping off a piece of the orange vegetable, mocha eyes never leaving the animal talking fae woman. "I'm Marceloâ€"and you are? Or should I call you carrot lady?"
Marcelo Lucas Rumeirimage by Vincent van Zalinge