Feeling hard wood under his back, the small body of a teen, no older than 19 began to shift. At first the man (as he was classed as that now, in the harsh times) had thought his brother had once again given him bad food, resulting in his fainting, but the lack of noise alerted him to something perhaps a tad more sinister. As brown eyes opened, the man sighed, sitting himself up and rubbing the back of his head. Slowly his last conscious moments were coming back to him. Romano had been at the alter, praying for... for what? Ah his head hurt, and with a light curse under his breath Romano pulled his legs to his chest, holding his head tightly. He had to remember, it might save his life.

There had been loud sounds in the background, he had hidden some of the woman and children under the alter so that they would be found by... by... Romano's eyes shot open. Pirates. Damn it all he had been taken by a bunch of pirates! Glancing to the door with wide eyes Romano stilled, trying to calm down his breathing. Hopefully they hadn't heard him curse, as far as he could tell they hadn't done anything to him after he had been knocked unconscious, but he had heard many stories of the Spanish preferring their victims to be awake while they abused them.

Romano had simply been a priest in the small village that had been invaded, with most of the eligible men sent to fight, it was up to the rest of them to take the normal roles in the community, as such himself and his brother had taken up the local church, hoping they would be spared for their love of God. Clearly it hadn't worked like his brother had promised him. Eye twitching in slight anger, Romano closed his eyes, letting out a calming breath. Well, with any luck they had captured him because they needed some Godly help, and they didn't want to abuse his sexy teen body...

Fat chance.

Heavy boots echoed overhead on the deck of the ship, pausing by the plank. There were several men lined and all with various wounds, and the emerald eyed man that stood behind them remained emotionless as he pulled out his gun. These men deserved it, and though they were members of his crew, the fierce captain wanted nothing to do with them. Without even hesitating, he pulled the trigger on each in turn, watching them howl in pain and gripped their limps where they had been shot- a bullet each, for Antonio was not for wasting bullets on men such as these.

The final order was shouted in Spanish, and at sword point, the men walked to blank into the ocean below, uncaring to the screams that tore through the otherwise peaceful air. They had been tormenting and luring in sharks for the past few hours, and were far from land. His former crewmen were left to die in the sea. Blowing the barrel of his gun of smoke, Antonio placed it back in its holster, caressing with jewelled and calloused fingers it like a dear pet or his very own son.

After dealing with the scoundrel men, Antonio made his way back down below to the lower quarters, his captain's coat billowing behind him, resting on his shoulders, the sleeves empty. Simply looking at him, you would know what type of man he was- a few piercings in each ear, chocolate waves of hair tied back in a low ponytail, skin tan and dirty, strong muscles rippling and lightly covered in sweat and sea water. He wore a white flowing shirt with lacing, though the rope lacing at the top of his chest was loose, exposing his collarbone and a lot of muscle, the white shirt tucked into his pants which were tucked into his boots, held up by numerous belts and a brown cloth sash, each belt holding a different object, including his guns, daggers, sword, compass and scope. But upon his head sat proudly a large hat, feathers and jewels and ruffles and lace decorating it intricately- it was a statement of power and authority, especially on the seas and in these times.

All in all, it wasn't that hard to deduce he was a pirate- and a captain at that.

The only odd thing that stood out as different from most typical pirates was that Antonio had a simple gold chain around his neck with a cross pendant hanging from it, resting against his muscled chest and glinting in the light that reflected in the room and swayed with the movements of the ship.

Thick boots echoed as he walked down steps, languidly twiddling with keys as he pushed it into the lock of a particular door, the lock loud as it click its release, the door swinging open. Emerald eyes blinked and widened slightly before narrowing, a smile slowly breaking onto the tan and dirty man's face. Were he not so filthy, and clearly a pirate (and possibly a bad man), he would definitely be a handsome man and a charmer.

"Ah~ You're awake!" he spoke pleasantly, swinging the door shut behind him, locking it once more as he tucked the chain of multiple keys back onto one of his many belts. "I was beginning to wonder if you would sleep all day," Antonio continued to talk as he moved over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down, swinging his legs up, ankles crossing as his boots rested heavily on the table. A large, dirty and jewelled hand gestured at some bread and water and tomatoes that were on the table nearby. "Eat, you must be hungry. Forgive me for not calling you 'Father', priest, but you seem terribly young to be called such a thing. If anything, I am almost twice your age, if judging by appearances."