He went to Paris looking for answers to questions that bothered him so. He didn't know what drew him there and kept him for so long, but as soon as he entered those French borders he knew he wasn't going to come back out for quite a while. Something about the sweet smell of the women's perfume and their melodic talk made it seem like things would be okay there.
The questions he'd come to this land seeking answers for eventually diluted and sought refuge in the farthest depths of his mind, freeing themselves of his conscious and allowing him to enjoy himself without restraint for the time being.
Eventually he'd come to blame it on the French wine's and cheeses these people dined on that kept his ambitions at bay, but as far as things went, he was content in wasting his eternal time with the fine women who seemed to be attracted to his dark Italian skin.
He could gamble and love without worrying about the consequences, and he lived without fears and trepidations except in the face of the sun, which was better than what he could say for most men, who feared more things than they could count on both hands. He'd been relieved of those things, for which he was grateful.
And for a while, everything was all right, till those questions he'd locked away in the attack of his mind decided to escape and break lose, scrambling for purchase and importance. Then he was on the move again, traversing from town to town to find something to sate the ravenous questions that continued to plague his thoughts.
His body became worn and scarred with his wanderings, eventually leading him to an event that would ultimately leave him with only one eye. He grew bitter and spiteful quickly and almost lost sight of his humanity on more than one occasion.
That is, until he met another man in much the same predicament. The man he'd stumbled upon also harbored thoughts and fears of much the same nature, and they'd connected quickly, latching onto each other for support through their trying times when no other life-line could be had.
But this man, this man here had had it so much worse than him. He'd been married; had settled down in the English lands to raise a family when he'd been cursed with the ageless disease, and lost his love to time.
They were both lost, trapped in bodies that couldn't age and seemed doomed to feel the cold shrill of death forevermore.
What were they searching for? Purpose and belonging in a world terrified of the slightest of things out of the ordinary?
The both of them had been alone in their wanderings and in their pain and could only stare with cold eyes as the people around them changed and passed with time, leaving them behind without second thought or a sense of belonging.
What does an immortal man do when for all his mortal life he was taught to fear death, something that now seemed to no longer apply to them? They were left to squander away their existence, grasping in futility to try and obtain something that they could never have again.
"We're both lost." He remembered having said to the English man. "We're both looking for answers to questions that might not even be possible to answer. You know what they say, Finas; two heads are better than one. Let's stick together and share what we find."
And Finas had agreed, if only so he didn't have to walk the earth alone anymore.
So they'd hopped on a freighter and sailed across the ocean, crossing the sea to come to new and distant lands in search of something better- or worse; more for a change of scenery than anything else.
