Now, don't be confused, Marcelo with those intense chocolate toned eyes has certainly found himself a part of a pack before he is after all a were, a species caught between human instincts and animalistic. It was a part of the dark eyed boy's nature. Though, the thing about joining a pack is you bond, your form connections, even for someone as wild and untamable as Marcelo it was impossible not feel a connection with pack mates, physically, mentally, emotionally. And the thing about being immortal, is you are always the one that has to say goodbye, not the other way around. Marcelo, with those big brown eyes has seen, has felt what it is like to lose his pack, for he had lost his fair share, time the only inescapable common denominator for all those who were not blessed with having drank the water of the fountain of youth. The boy with that dark earthen gaze had seen many age and pass before his dark chocolate eyes. Marcelo had seen so much death in his years, but some how he still managed to wear that easy grin on his face. Well, most of the time anyway. He had learned the hard way to never get attached, but then, as years passed, decades even, he would forget that lesson and the brown eyes were would let himself get attached all over again.

It was a vicious cycle for the boy with hair like brandished gold.

Earthen eyes stare at the large ship. That chocolate gaze shining with something like curiosity. The light breeze tugs at his golden brown hair and dark chocolate eyes close for just a moment against it before opening once more, still remaining on the ship. He wasn't quite sure what had suddenly caused the bronze haired boy to desire the connection of a pack, but he was here, regardless. He knew the Ark held fights and that any were was welcomed to attend, but Marcelo was here on an entirely different matter and didn't feel as though he ought to simply waltz in without an invite, especially if he was entertaining the idea of joining the Nightshade pack.

Mahogany eyes then spot a pretty little number coming down the ramp and despite himself, Marcelo lets a downright charming and impish grin comes to his face, dark eyes looking towards her. She asks if he is coming in, and the brandished golden haired boy simply shrugs slightly in response, that foxlike grin ever present on those features, leaning too far one way, not enough the other. Almost verging on the edge of smiling too wide for the situation at hand, his grin a little too wicked for anyone to truly feel comfortable with. "I wanted to talk with the pack leader before I stumbled in, but it seems I picked a busy evening," he says, drawls in that way of his. Dark eyes merely stare for a moment before adding. "Im looking for something perhaps more than just a one night of fighting, a more permanent arrangement perhaps, so I thought perhaps I ought to tread lightly," Marcelo says, and the way his voice rises and falls as he speaks and those dark eyes shine, it seems almost impossible to tell if he is telling the truth or not. "I am Marcelo by the way," he remembers, but then those dark chocolate eyes become distracted as he turns those chocolate eyes to see a man approach. Another were it would seem. Lips move into a grin on his handsome, young face as the man approaches as Marcelo peers out at him beneath tousled locks. That wolfish grin looks all to wonderful on Marcelo's face, no wonder woman seemed to fall in love with him.

"It depends. Are you apart of the panther's pack?" Marcelo asks, he looks henry over for a moment, he and the girl seemed to share a similar scent in a way, they must both be a part of the same pack, namely, Tetradore's. "I am Marcelo, some what new to the area, but settled enough to have heard about the packs in the area," he says with a roguish grin and a small shrug. He brushes a hand through those brandished gold locks before giving his head a slight shake and looking to each in turn. "I have heard about the fights," the boy with hair like brandished gold says. Those dark mahogany eyes searching their faces each in turn, each receiving a perfect, brilliant smile from the jackal, to accompany that killer smile he raises a brow in the direction of the man. "I'm not much of a fighter. I don't like to mess up the hairâ€"or my beautiful face," he says with a wink of a dark mahogany eye.

The tawny haired were lets out a sigh before deciding perhaps he ought to address the reason he had come. Dark eyes blink just a moment before he speaks once more. "I was actually hoping to speak with some of the pack and maybe Tetradore, but maybe I ought to see what this pack is all about," he says with a blink of those brown eyes and a small shrug. A small simper crosses his face. "When do the fights start?" He asks turning to each of the weres in turn with his question. "While I am not much of a fighter, this event certainly intrigues me," he says. Not often did he see weres getting into their animal form to brawl in anything other than a dispute over who was alpha or beta, or between territories. Though, the practice was not unheard of, Marcelo, after all, has been around quite some time. "Who is the reigning champ currently?" He asks, wanting to converse with the two pack members and maybe find out if this was the place perhaps he ought to stay, if they would have him of course, for Marcelo is not the easiest of sorts to get along with.