It had been three days, and Luka still wasnâ€™t responding to most stimuli. He would drink water and go to the bathroom, but he did not talk, sleep, or eat in that 72 hour period. People had come and gone, all trying their various methods to do something about their usually energetic and fearless leader. He just wasnâ€™t the same. His pale skin was paler, his hair, usually looking like spun gold itself was more like straw, and his clear emerald eyes were bloodshot and dimmed by dark shadows. He had being crying off and on, but not normal weeping; rather body wracking sobs of pure sorrow that shook him and obviously destroyed him just as much as his neglect of necessary bodily functions.
Laural simply couldnâ€™t take it. He marched into the ballroom where Luka sat absently twirling a lock of his hair and sat down right in front of the boy. â€œHey,â€