[ WP ] You are an immortal who has lived some 2,300 years , so long you have forgotten who or what made you this way . You go to a hypnotist to help you remember .

The only problem is, over the course of the past 2,300 years, my brain has developed along the same evolutionary circuits of generations of people to be born and die. The hypnotist ca n't get into my head because of its 2,300 years of progression. So, battered and worn in my forgetfulness, I set out into the world, traveling back in time after a manner of sorts, by visiting all of the past haunts and historical spots I can remember, in the hopes that I can find more about myself along the way. 
 
 Decades more pass me by in this seemingly endless search. From the battlefields of Normandy to my old haunt at Thrushcross Grange I go, all the while seeing my way more and more dimly. At long last, I find myself sitting before a painting I discover in a small, secluded monastery, high up in the Pyrenees mountains of Spain. It is the visage of an incomparable woman, with beautifully portrayed eyes, and statuesque form. Next to her in the image is a man whom I believe to be vaguely familiar. 
 
 Long do I ponder the portrait as I tap my signet ring upon the wooden pew. I have no idea of course, how long I've had this particular ring, only that I have kept it close to my person for far longer than I can remember. It is at this moment that I realize, the man in the image is wearing a detailed signet ring, on the first finger of his right hand. As my eyes light, I realize that I recognize the eyes of the man in the picture. My attention is turned again to the dame in the painting. With sickness in my heart, I realize that while I barely know the man, or the meaning behind such a beautiful portrait, I know the woman not at all, I have no memory of her existence. 
 
 And from there I set off on the next leg of my adventure, to discover the meaning of the painting, my signet ring, and of the descendants of the woman. 
 

