Marcelo has spent his day sleeping, awaking only to find some suitable food before letting himself once more collapse into his bed and tangle himself under the mess of blankets, his brandished gold hair entirely a mess at this point. In all honesty, he probably needed a hair cut, but Marcelo had not desired to seek getting on just quite yet and so, instead he is forced to wear a head full of tangled locks. But, eventually, those earth toned eyes flutter open underneath his long, brown lashes. His earthen gaze finally opens all the way, after what seemed to be an internal debate between just closing them and falling asleep once more, or fully committing to finally waking up and meandering out into the world.

The were boy issues a stretch, shaking wakefulness into all of his limbs that have grown stiff with sleep as he slumbered the day away. He ruffles that dirty blonde hair before coming to a standing position. A few steps take him over to the window of his hotel room and slides back the curtain to find only darkness outside and light cast by street lamps. A grin leaps to his face and his stomach growls loudly. There was certainly nothing tastier than meat right off the bone, whether he caught it himself or not. He is wearing only his maroon boxer briefs, and while he knows he will not need actual clothes for what he is doing, he will need them to at least get out of his hotel and out onto the street.

Over his head goes blue and grey striped t shirt, and he pulls on a pair of jeans, rolling the bottoms and pairing them together with grey van, his typical foot wear of choice, when he didn't lose them to his shifting. But even when he did, it was much too easy for the kleptomaniac to simply steal another pair, the boy was far too good at stealing for his own good. Meandering out of his room, it locks behind him as he strolls away right onto the streets of the town. Hands are in his pocket as he looks for an area to shift without being noticed. He was not exactly down to have a ton of dark hunters chasing after him and having to waste his time avoiding them and tricking them out of the chase. Marcelo may be rather careless indeed, but the boy was not stupid.

Well, not all the time.

Finally, the jackal is able to slip into an alley way and seeing no eyes upon him, he transforms, from the tanned and toned young man into a wiry jackal, instantly leaping forward and beginning to run. He always felt so free in this form, free of human restrictions, able to move quicker, slip through smaller areas, and for the thieving jackal, this is exactly what he wants. He turns into the predator, hunting alone as always, preferring a life of isolation rather than a pack where may be bound to answer to an alpha. He runs through the alleyway, slowly making his way down to the western side of town, perhaps hoping to steal some hard earned fish away from the fisherman to satisfy his primal need of hunger.

As Marcelo approaches the west side of town he slows his pace, strides easing from that ground eating wild run, the muscles shifting into a light jog as golden eyes stay peeled, and nose gently wafts scents within it, before he melts into a calm and steady walk, his breathing hitting the air in warm streams. Oh he loved these wonderful strolls on a summer night. Suddenly, a scent hits his nostrils, causing them to almost quiver with delight, and his tail to wag slightly. Food.

The jackal is a scavenger, an opportunist. He does not require fresh meat such as the lion and leopard, but is perfectly content with leftovers and scraps. And he finds just that, some fish lay on the dock, probably fallen through a net, but however they arrived there, Marcelo is uncaring. He grabs hold of the nearest squirming fish and bites into it, piercing the tender flesh and allowing blood to trickle out from the creature as the jackal devours it, tearing it open to reveal the white flesh beneath it. Although there are not many fish about the dock, Marcelo had always been smaller than most weres being a jackal, and even in human form he had been toned yet wiry and not soaring to the great heights of the men of Sacrosanct seem to, he was after all, only sixteen. Bone crunches beneath his jaw with their surprising strength as he occasionally licks his lip, gleaming all the flavor of the fish he can gather. As he consumes the last of the fish, each in the same way with crushing jaws and sharp teeth, he licks those lips ones last time and cleans off his paws, though blood has stand the fur around his face in a thin line, as if painting a joker's smile across the jackal's face. There is silence, albeit short lived. Ears swivel, turning atop his head to catch the sound of a voice, a were voice if he is not mistaken. Golden amber eyes glow with the light from the moon and the dockyard lights as the rascal slowly moves off towards the source of the noise.

HIs bushy tails flicks to one side as he moves off along the dock, following the voice he had heard and the smell that comes to his awaiting nose. A feline and a canine, one male and another female. Oh god, what was he gonna walk in on? Had he been in human form Marcelo no doubt would have supplied a cheeky grin. His back of striking silver and obsidian gleams brightly in the moonlight as those large ears remain pointing forwards until amber eyes spot the pair up ahead.

Now, Marcelo was used to be the smallest, jackals were not known for their height nor their weight, but this tigress, well, she damn near knocked Marcelo out of the park in terms of size. He lets out a sharp bark to announce his arrival before strolling over to the pair with a light jog. "Did I miss anything?" He asks as if he has known the pair his entire life. There is a playful tone to his voice, it had been just so long since he has spent a night with his own kind, a night to run among animals, as the were he truly is.