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A sliver of shadow molded itself into the shape of a man inside of Veroen's old apartment. Veroen stood there for a moment, the image of Edith with tears in her eyes still burnt into his mind. He stared at the wall in the entryway for what seemed like an eternity, though it was hardly more than five minutes. Coming back to himself, he looked around his old apartment, that he had remodeled years ago for Edith. Now, there was a thick layer of dust covering everything, and cobwebs hung quietly everywhere from the ceiling. His watery eyes gazed around the apartment, realizing with an ironic chuckle that the apartment was symbolic of his life. Burnt, remodeled to befit the love of his life, but now old, untaken care of, discolored, empty, and only occupied by by layers of dust and cobwebs.

He could feel the madness creeping into his mind.

How ironic that a woman would be the reason that Veroen was sent over the edge. He shook his head, more soft chuckles escaping his throat as the Void's presence in his mind grew. A tear fell down his cheek, and he stepped forward, leaving boot prints on the dusty ground, and causing disturbed dust particles to whirl in the air near the ground.

He stopped at a cabinet, and opened it, ignoring the cobwebs and dust. He reached inside, finding the stashed bottles in its confines. He removed the three of them, placing each on the counter in silence. He picked up the third one, dusting off the surface of it, recognizing it to be a very old bottle of Brandy from overseas, that he had been saving for a dinner with Edith years ago.

He stared at it for a moment with a now blank expression. Then, suddenly he stuck an elongated nail into the cork and popped it out with one smooth motion, and proceeded to drink the entire bottle with ease.

He set the now empty bottle on the counter, disturbing more settled dust as he did so. Without a word or exhale, he proceeded to do the same with the second bottle. He picked up the third bottle, and made his way to a chair in the corner of his room. The lights were off, and it was dark in the apartment, though it was almost comforting. He took a seat, the feelings of intoxication beginning to take form.

He opened the bottle in the same motion as before, taking a swig of it, like a human would. He wanted to enjoy the concoctions taste as a reminder that he was drinking his problems away, and silently indulging himself with self loathing.
He was still, save for the occasional swig of the liquor in his hands. He would have more than likely went to Las Noches under normal circumstances, however he desired to be left alone. Being alone was for the best, for his existence did nothing but bring pain and death to the rest of the world. He was a virus, mutated into a more dangerous virus by the effects of the Void. It was impossible for him to have a happy existence as he was.

Misery turned into rage suddenly, and he threw the half empty bottle at the wall across from him, causing it to explode into tiny shards of glass and splashing liquor everywhere. He was silent for a long moment, and watched the liquor that had splashed onto the wall as it slid down the wall, forming a small puddle on the ground at the base of the wall.

He twirled his hands, and a cigar formed in his hand from a string of void. He manifested his lighter in his other hand, ignoring the phrase engraved on its side that read, 'Fortune favors the bold' in Latin. He lit his cigar slowly, indulging himself with the flavor of it in silence.

The Void seemed to reach out to him, whispering in his mind. Veroen ignored it, though he knew he was far past the point of keeping the Void locked up. After a few more minutes, he took the cigar in his hand and looked at it for long moment. Thoughts of his past seemed to flow through his head as slowly as the cigar burned. He took his eyes off of the cigar, glancing around the dust and cobweb covered apartment with a painful look in his eyes. Then, a look of disgust suddenly came across his face, and he took his precious silver lighter, and flicked the flint, causing a small lick of flame to light on the wick inside of it.

He stared at the flame as it slowly burned in front of him, ignoring the lighters surface as it grew hot from the extended life of the flame. Without hesitating, he tossed it across the room, landing in the small puddle of liquor. The flame immediately spread across the small area of the floor, and traveled up the wall to the spot where the bottle had smashed on its surface. The flames continued to grow, slowly eating the materials that made up the wall and floor. The small area that the fire consumed lit up the inside of the darkened apartment, giving the entire room a malicious orange tint. The fire reflected in Veroen's black eyes, and he simply sat, staring at the fire as it slowly spread. He took a puff of his cigar, in silence.

It was all too symbolic, even down to the engraving on the side of the lighter. Funny that fortune should destroy an empty hole that once held a hope of something pure.

The irony was humorous, to say the least.