"They will tell stories of us, sister," he remembers telling Josie when they were so young. "And what will they say, brother?" She asks with a laugh. "Marcelo and Josie, the great children of a Spanish father and his German wife? Or perhaps the greatest thieves in history." But Marcelo is hardly listening, sitting beside his young sister, eyes glazed over in thought. But eventually, he turns to her, to look at those startling blue eyes of hers, their mother's eyes, the faintest smirk on his face. "Maybe," he said to her with a shrug. Even at this young age, there is something ruggedly handsome about the boy. He runs a hand through brandished gold hair, earthen eyes blinking against the sun as it brushes against his face. He turns those dark eyes back to his little sister who has the same matching brandished gold locks, the same hair as their mother, but his little sister has their mother's fair skin and bright blue eyes. The boy with hair like brandished gold cannot help but adore the young girl. Of all his siblings, Marcelo finds himself closest to his little sister.

The siblings with matching hair of brandished gold sit on the hill side with one another, watching those dark chocolate eyes as the sun slowly begins to set over their village. He feels the tickle of his sister's locks of brandished gold as she lays her head against his shoulder. He ruffled her hair as she looped her arm through his. These were the moments Marcelo lived for, being with family in the sunshine, as a soft, warms breeze ruffled through those brandished gold locks. He closes those dark eyes and just enjoys the moment.

But those memories are so far in the dark-eyed boy's past. Marcelo has began to wonder if he is even remembering it accurately. But, still when he closes his dark eyes and brings it forth, he cannot help the feeling of warmth that surrounds him.

The golden eyed jackal waits patiently for the horse to arrive. He knew he would, Marcelo was not used to being ignored. Black nose remains twitching as the smell of equine assaults his senses. Tail twitches every one in a while as those dark golden eyes remain peering into the darkness for any sign of the hooved were. Ears swivel atop his head as the sound of those hooves hit the ground. The scent of equine is all too familiar for the golden eyed jackal, having spent much of his life in the company of the creatures, after all, for most of the immortal jackal's life they have been his mode of transportation. Vehicles being such a new invention in the grand scheme of things. As the scent reaches obsidian nose though, it almost looks as if a wicked smile appears on the jackal as ivories become exposed, golden amber eyes bright with that Marcelo humor.

Golden amber meet violet as the horse approaches. Obviously, the horse could easily trample the little jackal, but Marcelo was not here on unfriendly terms as it were. Ears flicker atop his small head as the horse begins to speak and those golden amber eyes shift to the horse's creamy face. Those golden jackal eyes staring up in such an unwavering way. "Well obviously I had to come and see the legend himself," Marcelo says with something akin to a grin on his face. "I'm Marcelo, and I wanted to meet the packs of the area, which seem to be yours," he pauses here, perhaps for dramatic effect. "And the Nightshade pack." He asks, eyes staying focused on the horse's face for any signs of how he may feel about the other pack. "Let me clarify, I wanted to meet the powerful packs." There, that should help feed his ego a bit, maybe. Marcelo, what a kiss ass.