The last moments he shared with his family, moments he truly got to experience their little promise of ALWAYS & FOREVER that he’d always found to be the silliest of things was one of his happiest. Sure, in that moment he was dying, but that didn’t matter to him. He was content with passing on, on not remaining a beast, something he still hated and had despised for so long. Finn even hoped to find peace after entering the abyss, but unfortunately for him there was no such luck. He had never been lucky, or at least he’d never seen himself as such. Centuries spent in a box, learning to despise him and his siblings, what they were more than he could bare and now he felt a tug pulling him back. No, it couldn’t be he thought to himself as his body crashed against the cement of a side street, one of the many that made up New Orleans. Of course, he was back. It would be too easy for him to find death so easily, to find peace.
Lying with his back flat against the cold ground, he looked up in the sky hoping this was all sort of crazy dream. But how? One didn’t dream when they were dead. He knew that much. Sighing, Finn eventually found the will power to force him from the ground, brushing the dirt off his clothing. It was then that he felt it, the hunger, the lust. His throat was parched, as if he hadn’t fed in days, weeks even which wasn’t far from the truth. Even when he was alive, he rarely fed and when he did so, it was typically only a scarce amount from a bag. Tugging on his hair, he ran a hand through it hoping he didn’t look as disheveled as he felt, but he was sure he did. One didn’t wake up after being dead for how long looking decent, who knew how long it had been since he’d died from Lucien’s bite.
Walking out onto the streets after having fixed his disheveled appearance to the best he could, Finn made his way to the closest bar. He wasn’t in any mood to face his family just yet, despite having left them on good terms. That, and having died for another time called for drinks, so walking inside he made a beeline for the bar, eyes trailing over the menu on the chalkboard above as he tried to work out just what he’d have to drink.
