Pirate AU (Being safe by putting it in here)

(OoC: Might not be the brother you want, but if anything, you can treat him as a doppelganger.)

Days on the sea had turned to months and months had faded into years. It seemed like the ship had been out on the open waters forever, but in reality, the crew had made port about a week ago somewhere off the coast of West Africa—it had seemed like that part of the world at least. In any case, the ship and its captain were able to pick up a few ‘necessary’ goods: slaves, spices, loot…rum. The usual. But now that they were back to ‘civilization,’ the crew was simply brimming with anticipation. After all, a modern port would not only be able to offer normal goods, but better booze, and of course, lovely escorts for the men of the ship to sate their carnal desires. Some of them simply couldn’t stop drooling over the prospect of tanned skin, painted faces, plump proportions, and of course, the soft touch that was sure to be waiting for them.

Marco, however, was a bit less excited. At fifteen and a half, he was one of the younger crewmen and often bullied and shoved aside whenever the goods were distributed. The best part about this? He was the cabin boy so he was pretty much treated like dirt all the time and not just when they came to port. Glancing toward a group of men tucking the flags away—they had several apart from the traditional jolly roger in order to trick enemy ships—he sighed and let the brush plop back into the bucket with as splash as he wiped his hands off on his tattered breeches. As orders were being shouted to and fro, the pirates cackled to one another and raised bottles in celebration.

After a while, the crew filtered off the ship and fled into the night to seek whatever their hearts desired. Marco, just glad to have his feet planted on terra firma again, would simply settle for one drink…maybe two… The problem was finding the tavern, and while this town had a familiar air about it, Marcello had no clue where anything was and none of the older crewmen were all that willing to help him out. (In fact, he had been threatened by the first mate to return to the ship before sunlight on the third day of their stay. Otherwise he would be tracked down, dragged back, and keelhauled). Therefore, Marc was left to his own devices—which meant searching the streets for the local watering hole by himself.

The ship Marcello had arrived on was a marvel to be hold, painted along her sides with the brilliant colors of the Spanish flag and flying both it and the Jolly Roger, pleasing Blackbeard and the King of Spain simultaneously. El Pobre Diablo was a spectacle to behold as she came in to port. Sails were raised, rigging adjusted, and good unloaded. The powerful vessel carried 40 broadside guns, twenty on each side of the gun deck and two permanently placed bow and stern chase guns with a total armament of 44 guns of various weights from 6-pounders to a few massive 68-pounder "smashers" designed for close combat. Two masts with square rigged sails caught the wind that propelled the deadly vessel towards its quarry along with other rigged sails of various sizes.

El Pobre Diablo's master was Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, a handsome devil himself...but not poor. Like the famous Conquistador Hernando Cortez, Antonio possessed a sickness of heart that only gold could cure, and he took all his infirmed heart desired. Tonio's business today was mercantile, but typically he operated under a Letter of Marque that he had gone to great lengths to be granted...while pursuing the less noble role of a common pirate. Nowadays he was a lap dog of the King of Spain. Need the British harassed? Tonio will grab 'em by the balls. Need the French pilfered? Tonio will make off with any one of the Cheese-loving-surrender-monkey's loot...right after making out with the captain's daughter.

Walking off his ship right behind his cabin boy and ruffling Marcello's hair as he walked, the tanned Spaniard smiled down at the young Italian. "Plans tonight, mi amigo? You've my permission to go about as you please for the evening and into the morning. I expect you back before sundown tomorrow, though, si?" Looking up from his instructions to Marco, the brunette caught sight of another Italian, and a bright smile spread across his face. The man would have to catch up with him later.

A few moments after he stepped onto the docks, Marcello tensed up as a hand moved to ruffle his hair. The first thought that crossed his mind was that one of the crew members had lingered behind to harass him again… no doubt they would chuck him into the water once they got a good grip on his head. However, when he heard that surprisingly pleasant voice, he relaxed slightly. He still hadn’t gotten used to the Spaniard’s cheery demeanor—especially since the man was the pirate captain of such a motley crew. But it could be worse. There were much harsher scoundrels that sailed the seven seas and at least Marco had managed to stay on Antonio’s “good” side. Not that he’d ever want cross the man…he’d seen what happened to those that did.

After fixing his light brown hair back to a more fitting style—and taking care to make sure his curious curl didn’t get tangled up with anything—he nodded. “Sci, grazie. I-a was just going to-a find the tavern if-a I could and get a drink or two. A-and I will Signor!” Marco had turned to look at Captain Carriedo for a moment for a small salute, but then followed the other’s gaze to the streets. He didn’t see anything there, but judging by the smile on the Spaniard’s face, he had seen something or someone that had attracted his interests. Marco’s eyes drifted toward several of the shops—most were dimmed already, but a of the rooms in upper floors were lit by dim candlelight. The young Seborgan could have sworn he saw someone standing in the window, but it was probably just a shadow. He looked at it a few moments more before turning back to Antonio.

“.Capitano?” He inquired partially to see if the man would divulge what he was looking at, and partially to ask a question himself. “…Where exactly is-a the tavern in this port? The others-a disappeared before I could-a really ask them.” He purposefully neglected to tell the man the threats and harassment he had received earlier. The other mates just give him even more hell if he told the ship’s master.

Tonio smiled at the young man. These Italians were a bit scatter-brained and always naïve. The brunette righted his tri-point hat and turned his attention to the shops that Marco was also fascinated with. "There's a few taverns here, but most of them are rough and full of unwholesome types. You can come with me to one of the nicer ones, though mi querido." He winked at the young man. Marcello had served as the cabin boy on El Pobre Diablo for about 5 years now since the Seborgan was 11, a tad bit young for a cabin boy but agreeable enough to the Spaniard. After a few years of spending his days as the ships cabin boy, Marco began spending time in the captain's cabin performing........errands for the Spaniard. It was a relationship that earn Marco much favor from Antonio--favor that contributed to the crews' disdain for him.

"This tavern has a nice inn that we can stay the night in and have a hearty breakfast in the morning...with milk!" Dairy products spoiled to rapidly to be practically stored on a ship, so both men would appreciate such as a treat. The inn would also give them time to explore...other activities, and maybe Tonio could find the familiar face he saw dashing off into the night.

The sound was not unheard by the pirate who lived his life with lots of enemies. "Cuidate, Marcello!" The Spaniard urged as he drew his pistol from his side. He moved toward the offending door and grabbed the handle, yanking it open. The stalker on the other side was still clasping the handle and was pulled by the swift and forceful yank of the pirate out into the street where he landed in a heap on his butt. Tonio pointed the pistol at him. "One move and I'll send you to--Hello Lovino!" He demeanor changed considerably back to his normally carefree and oblivious self. "Why were you hiding behind the door? Marco, have you met Lovino? He's Italian too...well Southern Italy, not Seborga...but he still has that funny accento." As if he himself spoke completely normal.[/color]

Marco paused and nodded. “I wouldn’t mind that, I-a don’t suppose…” he said softly. The thought of being in a crowded bar with rambunctious and stronger men really didn’t appeal to him…and he’d probably end up getting hurt there anyway. He altogether didn’t notice the wink and the term of endearment went right over his head. He didn’t know Spanish, nor did he pretend to. In fact, he had almost always considered the term ‘mi querido’ to be some sort of slang related to his job on the ship or whatever.  The prospect of milk, however, was highly appealing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually drank that white nectar!

“Sci!! That-a sounds—“ he cut himself off as the Spaniard exclaimed a warning and drew his pistol. Marcello thought he had heard a sound, but he hadn’t paid it much mind. He wasn’t one for combat—just…cleaning. Drawing the small dagger he kept on hand, he held it out in front of him, praying to the powers that be that he wouldn’t have to use it. As the other young man was thrown to the ground, Marco just looked at him and shook his head. “N..no? I-a don’t think I have…Sh-should I?” A lot of memories from his past had been blocked due to …unfavorable experiences. It was difficult for Marcello to remember much of anything before the age of 10. “C-ciao.”

Marco’s eyes locked with Lovino’s and as the other Italian frowned at him, he clutched the dagger all the tighter. He didn’t look very nice… but he wasn’t exactly lunging at him. Wait… He had a crazy curly thing sticking out of his head too? It was definitely more curvy than Marcello’s, but he hadn’t seen many other people with them. At least not as prominent as the other Italian's and his own.

Once the man started speaking, Marcello's mind reeled and he slowly lowered the dagger. It took him a moment to gather the words to reply. After all, it had been a while since he had spoken more than just a phrase or two to someone in Italian, but he could never forget his native tongue completely.

“Che cosa? Mi ha portato a lavorare sulla sua nave, quando ero più giovane,” Marcello shrugged, blinking a bit and tilting his head as he sheathed the dagger back into the waistband of his breeches. “Non so perché lui dice che ti conosce… Lo conosci?” Marco was a bit confused. How did Captain Carriedo know this guy or vice versa? He couldn’t remember; he didn’t know… He merely watched as Lovino moved backwards with a frightened look.

Captain Carriedo smiled at Lovino and was glad the two were conversing...that was an actual language was it not? He could pick up a few words here and there, but Tonio had never had any interest in Italian. He did, however, have an interest in a pair of Italians. They were so cute! And he noticed they looked a bit alike. Were they related? No, they couldn't be. "Lovino here used to be my cabin boy," Tonio explained to the younger Italian, walking over and putting his arm around the brunette. "We had quite the adventures together fighting the British, but he decided to be a land lover and abandoned us...His contract was up, but I was sad to see him go. Italian's make the best cabin boys....I think." He smiled at the two, wondering if Lovino might join them for a drink. "Have you eaten yet, Querido?" He asked Lovino.

The Seborgan completely sheathed his weapon as he looked up at Captain Carriedo. “Your-a old cabin boy?” he blinked a bit and looked to the other man as he growled out a response that was contradictory to what the Spaniard had said. Marcello’s green-amber eyes watched as the Italian moved backwards into the inn. He couldn't tell if Antonio was right or if Lovino was—after all maybe it was mistaken identity.

“Um… I-if-a he’s eaten, Signor, I-a haven’t…” he added meekly as Antonio inquired Lovino about eating. His eyes dropped to the other’s stomach as it growled. Ugh…his own threatened to make the same sound and right now he was very, VERY much wanting some of that milk that the Captain had mentioned… or at least a strong drink and a meat dish. Marco idly wondered if the place they were going had rabbit or goat or cow… His mouth almost watered at the thought.