dissolving memories [thorfinn/open]

At first Ryker nearly didn't hear the figure standing beside him calling his name, considering he was buried nose first in his glass.  Somehow the amber liquid seemed much more enticing then any conversation would to Ryker.  He finished his sip drinking a bit to eagerly at the sound of the voice beside him, as he immediately identified it as Thorfinn Rowle.  Ryker started choking and immediately the glass parted from his lips as he frantically placed it on the counter top before leaning forward and falling into a hacking fit.  Finally after a few minutes he caught his breath while grasping his chest.  Ryker's choking episode had not been so much caused by surprise as it was by dread.  Ryker was one of the few Death Eaters that did not possess a sadistic mindset and a knack for causing others pain, instead his intentions were limited to merely gaining something.  In this case he gained power and respect from having rejoined the ranks of the Death Eaters - not to mention the ability to keep his freedom and his life.  The majority of his decision had been based solely on the capacity to keep his freedom and his life, two important entities that were vital to his existence.  Not that he had much of a life aside from the drinking fits, the frolicking in the woods, and all those persistent nightmares - yet he still had some will to live.  Truly he had not been interested in joining in the first place - his father had forced him into it, but no one knew that.  Becoming a Death Eater was not exactly a decision that was easily revoked, as they were marked for life.

Once he had gained his breath back and his composure, Ryker nodded slowly, "Thorfinn."  His voice sounded anything but enthusiastic but the corners of his mouth pulled into something of a lopsided smile anyways.  "The usual..."  Ryker motioned towards his nearly empty glass now, most of that amber liquid had somehow made its way down the wrong side of his throat.  His lungs were burning now, it wasn't a sensation that was too far off from the burning that his esophagus was currently emitting.  "Bartender!"  Raising his hand in a beckoning gesture, he asked for more by simply pointing to his near empty drinking glass once he had gotten the man's attention.  His glass was promptly refilled and Ryker felt the balance once again restored within the universe.  "That's better.." He mumbled to himself as he raised the glass to his lips once more.  This time his sips were more precise and less volatile.  Ryker nearly ended up choking on his drink again when Thorfinn mentioned the fact that he would be buying later.  He swiftly saved himself this time setting his drink down gently on the counter top instead.  "You must be joking!"  Ryker shot back.  Perhaps it was not so much common knowledge, but he lived outside in the woods and barely had a penny to his name.  Although he was pureblooded and had been the next in line to receive the family fortune, that money had been commandeered long before.  While he was imprisoned the ministry took everything considering the rest of his family was dead and there was no one to fit the accusations of the debts that they owed.  Now with the Dark Lord in power maybe the money could have been given back, but with so much corruption it was not the most likely of chances for that to happen.

"You'll have to add it to my tab."  He said in a flat sarcastic tone.  Currently his tab was already about ten kilometers long and counting.  Having never been a greedy person, Ryker was not entirely opposed to the idea of buying the next round, although it was doubtful that he would ever have enough money to pay off his tab.  Death Eater was not actually an occupation that was listed under salary where one could file taxes every year and gather money and retirement from the government.  Ryker had no interest in getting a real job, instead he just opted on stealing what he needed. 

"What horrors have you wrought on this miserable world today?"  Ryker inquired, changing the subject rather bluntly.  His demons were enough for his aching back to bare, but he knew that others insisted on an audience for theirs so he often humored them.  His fingers laced around his glass and he happened to take another sip waiting on Thorfinn to burst into an excited chorus of his hateful actions against humanity this week.

"Well that's a much too tempting proposal to pass up."  Ryker admitted, free alcohol was not something that he took lightly.  On occasion he had been known to walk out without paying so perhaps that was considered free alcohol as well.  He wasn't going to complain or fight Thorfinn's offer to pay, it rather appealed to him at the moment that he was not going to have to fork over anymore money tonight.  Thoughtfully he took a sip of his freshly filled glass, grateful that he was finally able to drink away all those problems that had been ebbing away at conscious mind today.  The heaviness in his heart was becoming lighter with each sip, yet he was far from feeling as if he were floating.  His mind had begun to race, finding himself giddy with the promise of intoxication.  Certainly he would need to drink quite a few more before he found himself within the realm of lightheaded bliss, but he was growing closer with each sip.  Anticipation of yet another black out night that would allow him to begin his day early next morning, possibly next to a puddle of the same stale vomit smell that filled this dirty pub, was somehow appealing to him.  Ryker had a feeling that he deserved nothing less then this lifestyle and the small army of ghosts that haunted him for he had done horrible things.

Ryker found his eyes wandering about the room as Thorfinn described the horrors of his day.  It was all just noise in the peacefulness that swam before his vision.  Out of the corner of sharp blue eyes the miniscule movement of Thorfinn's hand was visible; Ryker said nothing, he had not the energy or the will to ask.  Besides Thorfinn was known for his quick temper, frighteningly quick in some circumstances.  Ryker never understood it, but he knew well enough to know that he did not want to get on the wrong side of it.  The word 'Azkaban' hit his ears the instant that it had left Thorfinn's mouth, Ryker visibly shuddered.  The motion was noticeable and he was not afraid to hide it either.  He had spent well over three years in Azkaban convicted of killing an aurora and he had barely crawled out alive.  The crime was not exactly his to claim, but the rumor was that he had gotten off under false pretenses and that he really had done it.  He had murdered before that - just not that one particular crime - he supposed he deserved the prison time regardless for his crimes against humanity.  Innately he was not trying to purposely kill those people, but the situations he had been placed in had been difficult and he had been young, much to young to not bend easily against the pressures placed on his back.  Once more Ryker repeated the habitual motion of drinking deeply from his glass as his blue eyes grew cold at the memories of that dark place in the corners of his subconscious.

Foolish, he had been so foolish.  But there was no going back now, he had to bare his own cross and carry on with the flow of life.  Hell, he had not even graduated from Hogwarts.  There were so many regrets piling up in his cup as he drank once more, yet no amount of liquor would wash away those mistakes.  "It's been a slow day.."  Ryker admitted, "Not much in the murdering department, and not a penny to claim for my pocket today."  He chuckled lightly, it was an empty sound that didn't reach his eyes.  "I'm afraid war is no good for the tourist industry.  Suppose most mudbloods don't find the Dark Lord's regime the superb place to vacation."  It was a bad joke, but Ryker found renewal for his own laughter at the idea.  He laughed a little bit harder when Thorfinn suggested he find himself a wife, that was an even more terrible joke.  Ryker was not counting on getting married at this point, he'd given up he decided his drinking habits were enough to drive anyone away.  "It will be a cold day in Hell when I get married.  You'll have more luck than me."  Ryker announced to the nearly empty bar, not that anyone else was paying attention.  The liquor was not going to his head just yet, but the pure act of drinking to get there had elevated his mood.

What a lovely tragedy...  These words Ryker thought but dared not speak aloud for fear of man beside him snapping at the sound of them.  Ryker knew some things were better left unsaid.  Despite his own demons, he did love a good tragedy perhaps he had learned to feed off of others despair as the dementors had once done with his own woes.  At least no single girl that he had fallen in love with had decided to off herself yet, if that was any constellation to the misery that he felt surrounding his own love life or lack thereof.  "Aren't we all.." Ryker echoed Thorfinn's thought, perhaps it was the occupation or the casualties that came with it.  Like every great war there would be victims and there would be collateral damage, perhaps their own personal war had amassed more victims than per the normal.  But, who was to say that one could put an exact number on that sort of death toll it was all open to interpretation.

There were minute traces of empathy in Ryker's voice, but the sound didn't seem to clear his expression, in fact his tone may have fell flat on the floor for all the good that it did him.  There was something about expressing emotions, empathy especially that was a dangerous feat, Ryker was no fool when it came to the unspoken rules of the Death Eaters.  Weakness above all else could easily be seen in your actions, in your emotions, and in your feelings - it was better not to hold any of these things close to heart or else you could end up dead before you could ever dish out your own personal pity party for the threat that your emotions had caused you.  It was poisonous to feel, but near impossible not to; Ryker opted to drink instead.

At the mention of Azkaban again, Ryker grew quiet luckily he had not had his drink to his lips or he would have surely choked to death.  There was a long pause as if he were gathering something from somewhere within the depths of his mind and then he spoke with an intensity that was unrivaled.  "Imagine never being able to feel elation, happiness, or even a shred of hope for the future ever again because if per chance you try and escape through these feelings they will be ripped from your very soul."  His blue eyes were ice, an expression that was enough to slice through bone with a chill.  "People go mad, most starved to death in a matter of months because they forgot to eat, they had no sense of hunger, no sense of time."  Ryker wanted to say that he would never wish it upon anyone, mudblood or no, but he stopped himself.  "They strip you of your wand the moment you walk in the door."  Ryker gave a cold laugh, "And soon you realize that that is the least of your worries."  He took a large gulp from his glass as if to signal his surrender.  It was not easy to voice his thoughts on the subject, but he was trying to put some distance between himself and those thoughts that were trying so desperately to smother him.  In spite of what many claimed, his memories did not seem to grow fuzzier with age if anything they were clearer than ever.  He could still see those high cold stone walls and hear the sea hitting the walls in a wild fashion during the middle of the night.  Not even to mention that frigid feeling that he got when the dementors were sucking the very life out of him.  Those years had left his face aged, his features gaunt, and his mind somewhat damaged.  Ironically the worst of his memories were not of the faces of those that he had happened to murder (they numbered very few), but of his argument with his brother.  That was the one memory that had shoved him to his knees, begging, pleading that it would go away.  His brother was dead, there would be no forgiveness for that argument nor would there be any sort of vindication.  What a tragedy, Ryker thought with irony.  Perhaps he should not take such joy in what might be considered another's greatest anguish.

Ryker could not even scratch up a dull laugh at Thorfinn's joke, despite his stint in Azkaban having been well over ten years prior the cuts were still as fresh as ever.  Those memories he had of that dark hole were the sort that did not weather well with age nor would they dissolve, they were resilient in the deepest sense of the word.  He frowned a bit at the joke realizing how little energy he had to contain the feelings of hatred and anger for Azkaban that clawed beneath the surface of his conscious mind.  Anger and fear was all he had left of that place, but the anger was really what had kept him alive.  At first he had been disillusioned enough to believe that a part of him deserved being locked up for the murders that he had committed.  Soon though Ryker had come to realize that even the most heinous of criminals did not deserve the treatment administered without those walls.  It was the sort of mental torture that would trumpt any kind of physical harm any day for the mind was the basis of the soul, without the mind the soul was so easily dislodged.  Without the mind everything came unhinged, Ryker had seen it with his very eyes watching his fellow cellmates disintegrate before his eyes.  "They don't give you a bloody thing."  He responded with a sigh.  "If it were up to those idiots they wouldn't even have fed us, it was a waste of resources supposedly."  Ryker shook his head slowly and drained his glass.

Slamming the glass very unceremionously onto the counter he motioned for another.  The room had acquired a decent little spin, and he had a good strong buzz coming on but intoxication still was no closer than Ryker was to forgetting Azkaban.  Ryker now chanced a sideways glance at his drinking buddy, who seemed well enough gone.  Perhaps the man does have a conscience, Ryker mused mildly.  Ryker was not about to let on how far behind he was dwindling in the liquor department at that moment, he did not have a death wish.  On occasion he was the silent observative type, mostly when his life was banking on it.  "A baby?"  He muttered, not really believing what he was hearing.  That thing would be dead before it hit the doors, he thought silently knowing somehow that the dementors would merely suck the life out of it and save everyone else the trouble of offing it.  His blue eyes widened at the thought of it, but he turned them away just in time to hide his expression of mild horror from Thorfinn - or so he thought.  Ryker was not drunk enough to know when to keep his mouth shut.  What really amazed him was that Thorfinn somehow sounded somewhat guilty on the matter.  Ryker had never been the sort to go after children, let alone babies, he did not have a problem turning his wand on an adult - in his opinion they were all bitter and corrupted by this hideous world - but children were still pure, still innocent.  He could never imagine going after a child.  Of course he did not disclose these things to his Death Eater colleagues because more than likely they would all disapprove.  Luckily Ryker had never been put in such a situation as to have to decline to harm children.  Not yet at least..  He thought bitterly.

Ryker chuckled softly at Thorfinn's comment, "Hey you asked, I merely delivered."  His meek response was barely a defense.  Truly he never liked talking about it, but people deserved to know how horrible it was.  For maybe if they knew about the torments and the terror that it brought than maybe someone would have the mind to change something.  Ryker was no activist, he was not exactly on the forefront of any movement nor was he about to voice his opinions on the wizarding prison which was currently housing the pureblood race's worst known enemies - mudbloods.  He didn't have a death wish, he still had some life in him to preserve however feeble it was.  "How many mudbloods do you send there in a bloody week anyways?"  Curiousity killed the cat as it so happened, but Ryker could not refrain from asking such a thing.  He was nearly scared now of the answer that he would receive.  It was like asking him how many people he had murdered since he had been in prison.  The death toll was on the rise as sympathy was descending to an all time low.  It was all about survival, and survival meant blood on his hands - the sort that dripped down his fingers and spattered his shoes and his very soul

Ryker arched an eyebrow at Thorfinn's comment about drinking to forget, he had trouble reading in between the lines and he couldn't tell if it was a joke or merely a statement of fact.  Maybe it was the fog that his mind was slowly becoming or just the mere fact that he was not good at reading people sometimes, but Ryker could not quite figure it out.  Grasping his new fresh cup of volatile liquid, he shoved off Thorfinn's words as nothing significant.  He could not even muster an offhand chuckle instead he took another large sip of his fresh glass not bothering to acknowledge his Thorfinn's words.  Sixteen?  Well he had asked, poisonous a response as it was it settled heavy on Ryker's stomach and his conscience and he was not even the one locking them up.  Death was certainly a kinder escape, heck anything was a kinder escape compared to a life sentence in Azkaban.  "They are the lucky ones." Ryker replied.  Who wants to live another day in this dumpy life anyways?  The words he could not speak aloud for fear of offending some eloquent pureblood regime, some political pile of rubbish that he still could not comprehend.  All he knew was that he was fighting for that cause, the cause that had caused the downfall of a whole race of people.  The thought normally would have made him shudder, but feelings were far from him now with the glass of firewhiskey in his hand.  Not to mention he was trying to make his feelings scarce yet he show some sort of empathy for the wrong side.  Unfortunately at the end of the day he still saw them all as people.

"Death is the easy way out for them..."  Ryker agreed bleakly.  There was not much left in this world for the mudbloods and the stupid muggles, the pureblood regime was intent on expunging them so they might as well go quietly.  He sighed silently at the thought of the whole situation.  It was incredible how the world had become so baseless within the last decade.  It was as if the whole bottom had fallen out overnight, he had blinked and opened his eyes to a new world filled with hatred and the heat of rage that was still overflowing from battles now since past.  There was nothing to be done now, this war seemed as good as over the resistance was out there still perhaps but they were well hidden and their numbers were perhaps dwindling.  On occasion Ryker found himself wishing that he had never put his hand into any of this in the beginning, had it not been for the pressures of his late father then he probably would have been on a different side of this conflict.  Neutral territory had looked all to appealing at one point, but now it would be unheard.  Now, you were either with the Dark Lord or against him, this world held no happy mediums when it came to those views.  Potentially he had stroke of luck having picked the side that had won this bloody war, but what did that mean?  At this point it was just a whole other lifetime of horrors and inflicting pain on the 'innocent.'  So much for washing his hands of all the blood.

"Truly happy?"  Ryker burst into a fit of laughter, it was heavy and more real than any of his laughter had sounded before.  It was genuine because he found Thorfinn's remark genuinely hilarious, although he was certain that this was no joke.  His fit of laughter continued til he grabbed his side leaning forward into the sharp pains now emitted from his abdomen as he gasped for breath.  "As much ... as much of an attractive threat you have posed I'll have to take option A."  Ryker was attempting to catch his breath as he barely forced the words out.  "I'll have to think a moment though."  He warned Thorfinn, the firewhiskey was loosening his tongue and suddenly he felt talkative.  High on his most recent spell of laughter, Ryker begun slowly as if his thoughts were collecting somewhere beneath the dark surface of his reality.  "Let's see..."  Ryker was too preoccupied now shifting through his own memories to realize that Thorfinn was using him to create some sort of diversion.  Somewhere between the sips of liquor and his own plethora of memories, Ryker was lost in the conversation.  "Hogwarts fifth or fourth year..."  Ryker begun, "Before things got bad."  Then he added, "If I had to pick a close second, it would be the day I got out of Azkaban, barely escaped with my bloody sanity.  But you'd better believe I had my pride."  He grinned it was lopsided and somewhat dog-like, there was something friendly about it as if the shadow of a memory had forced him to crack a genuine smile.

"Worse off, huh?"  Ryker mused aloud for a moment arching an eyebrow with some mock concern.  By no means was this contest, but Ryker found himself a bit speechless as he pondered exactly how miserable he had allowed himself to be all these years.  His misery had spanned decades; maybe it was the alcohol or the sudden epiphany that was brought on by how hard he had to think to conjure those "happy" memories but Ryker was suddenly realizing how long it had been.  His plight of misery had begun with his argument all those years before with his brother, and slowly after that moment it had escalated.  That argument had been the fuse on some sort of incessantly ticking time bomb, it had been burning dangerously low for years.  Perhaps the explosion had already happened, but the sound may have been too deafening for anyone to hear.  It was hard to notice that noise when the noise of the world was enough to drown out just about anyone's conscience mind.  "Well that's a pity, and here I fancied myself lucky."  Shrugging off his epiphany with another sip of firewhiskey.  The room had taken on a favorable tilt and he found himself one step closer to that high that he was chasing that was somewhere between buzzed stupor and black-out drunk.

Pushing off that brief stint of misery and self-reflection, Ryker instead now focused his efforts on the glass before him and the buzzing noise of voices in the bar.  The place had begun to populate somewhat fast now as the sun was quickly dipping below the horizon.  Said sunset was not easily seen through the dirt caked to the window, instead it was only a hint of orange to red light seeping through the cracks in between the grime.  Ryker had never been much sentiment since his time in Azkaban, he was more into chasing that void somewhere between his memories and the present day.  "You've got a kid?"  Ryker seemed a bit surprised by the topic, it was something that he couldn't bury beneath the liquor.  Then again Thorfinn may have mentioned it before, but it was obviously not a topic that he spoke much about.  "Well that's a..."  Ryker's voice trailed as Thorfinn begun speaking again.  The scene seemed to be playing in slow motion.  "Dragged myself to the nearest bar and begun my career as a professional alcoholic."  Nodding in the affirmative he said these words with some pride behind them.  He smirked a little as he took another swig from his glass.

Ryker was just about to try and direct the conversation back with his curiousity ebbing at him, but he stopped when Thorfinn begun asking more questions.  "Escape?  Oh, hell no they exonerated me."  He gave a short bark of a laugh.  "See I was innocent."  There was a matter of a fact tone to his voice that he could not hide, ironically it was the truth.  He had been in Azkaban long before the reign of the Dark Lord or the mass escape of the Death Eaters.