Part 2- Flutpox
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. . .
"Stop rolling will yah!"
"I'm. So. Itchy!" Jak nearly screamed, attcking his skin. It was
beyond dark outside, having no lighting outside like Haven did. The
heat was making him sticky and sweaty. He smelt beyond disgusting. And
he itched SO bad.
Daxter sat up from beside Jak. "If it's so bad go to the healer and
get some ointment. You're gonna break skin. I swear if I wake up with
blood on me tomorrow..-"
Jak growled loudly, shutting Daxter up. He was scratching a
particularly itching spot when it started to sting. A stingy itch. A
sweaty, bloody, stingy itch. "Argh!"
Daxter groaned dramatically. "I need my sleep. If you don't want to go
to the healers just go to Damas. He said he had sone stuff. And let me
Knowing sleep wasn't even an option at this point Jak climbed out of
the single bed, walking from the small hut they inhabited. As he left
a warm breeze dried his skin slightly, giving him the slightest
relief. A flut flut chirped at him as he walked by. He gave it a dirty
look. "Stupid bird and your pox."
Absent mindedly he scratched at his face, freezing suddenly. No...
The dots had managed to spread to his face. Jak dug his fingernails
into his palm drawing blood to stop himself, but the urge was too
great. After a few short seconds he started convulsing with the need
for relief. "Argh!" He clawed at his skin mercilessly, gaining him
frightened looks from any late night travellers.
The itch seemed to only grow the more he scratched instead of
lessening. Finally he yelled in frustration, beginning to jog to the
As the elevator shifted him upwards to Damas' dorm Jak jumped on the
spot, goosebumps beginning to cover his body, his sweat feeling like
icy water. It's been like that since the beginning of the night, hot
flashes and then cold flashes. It's like the gods were trying to make
When the elevator finally jolted to a stop Jak nearly ran off it. To
his surprise it was dark in the room. He hadn't planned on the king
being sleeping. With the itch urging him forewards he took a few
tentative steps to the sleeping kings form.
A harsh whisper tugged Damas out of the dream world "Damas...Damas?"
He opened his eyes sleepily, his eyes making out blue eyes in the
dark. He smiled sleepily. Mar was probably awoken from another
nightmare. He reached his hand out for Mar's.
Damas' eyes snapped open fully, his hand dropping, unnoticed to his
visitor. "Jak," he greeted quietly, trying to regain his sense of
mind. The soft sound of fabric being scratched brought the smile back
to his face though. "I take it you're here for some ointment?"
Jak only nodded, following the king in silence across the room. The
lights flicked on suddenly, hurting Jak's eyes. He blinked a few
times, looking to Damas as he turned around from a cabinet with a
clear bottle in his hand. "Go sit on my bed," Damas ordered softly.
"I'll be back."
Jak watched as Damas disappeared into a hallway, leaving Jak alone.
Awkwardly he crossed the room, sitting ontop of his hands at the very
edge of the in made bed. He shivered violently, already a sweat
starting to break out again.
Relief flooded him against his better judgement when Damas returned
quickly, towel in one hand, the clear bottle and a small dark purple
veil in the other.
He set the items on the side desk gently, turning back to Jak without
a word. Damas felt his head with the back of his hand, frowning. "Have
you been drinking enough? You've got a bad fever. It's rare, but the
odd citizen doss die from this. I'll get a wet cloth for you're
Jak shuffled awkwardly, twitching at the pain he wa feeling from the
desire to itch. He wasn't use to be treated like such a kid. The only
times someone had treated him for sickness or injury was Samos, who
lectured him more than cared, and the workers for the Baron;
constently checking his vitals and temperature for change.
He watched as Damas poured a few drops of the clear bottle onto the
towel. He wondered if Damas had ever done this for his son before he
disappeared? Or who had done this for Damas himself? It was such a
small act, caring for the sick. Yet it seemed so significant at that
point to Jak, he had to bite his lip to keep himself from asking a
"Could you take off you're tunic and lie on your stomach?" Damas
asked, popping the cork back onto the bottle.
Jak followed his directions, crossing his arms infront of him and
resting his head in them, facing the wall.
"Where did you grow up? There's not many adults walking around that
hadn't contracted this."
Jak hissed as the wet towel touched the bumps, burning them intensly.
He shut his eyes, and focused on breathing. In and out. In and out.
"It was a little village called Sandover." He gave a heartless laugh.
"Well I guess it'd be called Dead Town now."
Damas dabbed at the bumps gently, doing his best to ignore the
shimmering scars that criss-crossed the younger man's back covering
it. They were short small lines, the quantity of them causing Damas to
clench his fists at them. He could barely imagine what caused some of
them. "And how about your family. Any brothers or sisters?" he asked,
trying to draw his attention away from the pain, aswell as the topic
of Jak's father.
"No. Not that I know of anyways. Never knew my mom neither."
Damas frowned. "Who raised you then?"
"Don't remember. I've forgotten everything until I was about five. And
then it was mainly the village's Sage, and the villagers."
Damas sighed as yet anoter topic was shut down. He moved onto the
lower half of Jak's back, apologizing at Jak's grunt of discomfort.
"You're wound is gone. I see you found some Green Eco to heal youself
Jak gave a grunt, oblivious to Damas small smirk. 'And probably to try
to get rid of the itch,' he laughed silently. It had long since been
discovered Green Eco's effects on Flutpox was completely useless.
"How old are you? I treat you as an equal, but sometimes it seems
uncomfortable for you."
Jak brows came together. "Seventeen. And it's not uncomfortable, I
just don't like following orders much, or working with others." Or
talking he added silently.
"Flip," Damas ordered, looking proudly down at Jak's spotless back. It
took a lot of effort, but eventually Jak managed to get himself sorted
out. He frowned, his head fuzzy. "What's that stuff?" he asked, his
eyes almost shutting on their own accord. He doubted if he could even
raise a finger at this point.
"It called Saphorixe, or Sap, for short. It might make you feel tired
or lightheaded, but it's the best remedy for Flutpox. Though it's
becoming quite rare. The plants used to make it are slowly
Jak frowned in his head, but didn't complain. If it made the itch go
away, he had no complaints.
Jak giggled quietly. "I kinda...like it. I feel free, and happy. And
Damas laughed at Jak's grogginess. Usually kids just pass out. He
figured since Jak was bigger it just made him a little out of it.
"I like feeling like this," he continued. "I used to feel like this a
lot, before I landed in stupid Haven City."
Damas froze, his eyes looking to Jak's solemn face. "Why?"
"Why! Because stupid Baron Praxis! Because his stupid Dark Eco needles
and his stupid guards. And the stupid chains and that chair...that
fucking Chair! The stupid fucking chair! Peice of shit! Fuming worst
peice of furniture. Ever!"
Damas stepped back as Jak's skin begain to turn to a grey, his scars
coloured perfectly to blend in. "Jak...calm down Jak it's okay.." he
"No it's not!" Jak roared, his eyes opening to reveal completly black
orbs. "No it's not okay! You can't do that to someone...it's not
right! I was a fucking kid; I was only fifteen. And now I can't even
shut my fucking eyes without seeing it."
"Seeing what?" Damas pressed, more memorized at the beauty of the
monster than frightened.
"It! Everything! God dammit it hurt...it hurt so much," he whimpered,
his face twisted in pain. "Argh!" Jak slumped back down in the bed
defeated. Cautiously Damas sat at the edge of the bed, touching the
greyed hair gently. Jak moaned in protest. "Shh..." Damas whispered,
running his hand down the transforming-blonde hair to the crevice in
his neck which he rubbed affectionatly. "Shh...just sleep. It'll be
alright it the morning. Just sleep."
Jak pulled his knnes higher to his chest, sinking comfortably into the
mattress. As he calmed he changed back, he natural tan coming back,
this horns and nails retracting into his skin.
"Shh." Damas soothed, continuing to rub his back until he was certain
the youth had fallen asleep. He let out a sigh of relief. 'Never treat
someone full grown with Sap,' he mentally noted to himself.
He cleaned up slowly and quietly, making sure not to wake Jak. He left
the purple vile on the table for tomorrow morning. It was supossed to
help with the chills and fever, but it could wait for morning. For now
he just dampened a cloth, placing it on his warriors forehead, gently.
He smiled down at Jak's relaxed face, the age seventeen not seeming so
unbelievable now. He pulled the sheets up from where they lay rejected
at the bottom of the bed. He tugged them up to Jak's chin, letting it
settle gently on his sleeping figure.
"Goodnight warrior," he whispered, as he had everynight for four years
until his son had been captured. He looked out the window distantly.
"Goodnight Mar," he breathed, relishing the words on his tongue.
He shut his eyes and listened. Nothing. Nothing but Jak's light
breathing. He hadn't gotten a response in two years.
It was all he ever got, nothing.
And it was all he'd ever get until the day he died.