Curse of the Dragon 2

Written for the Bertie-Bott Bean Game challenge
Prompt - purple

Also written for the Color Challenge on the Caesar's Palace Forum
Prompt - purple


Scabior groaned as he looked down at the burns in his handkerchief. He'd tried denying it, tried hiding it from his wife that he was sick. But when he started sneezing gold, flaming sparks in front of his family, there was no way for him to hide that he had dragon pox.

"Come on, sweetie," said Draconius. "Let's get you to bed."

"But I'm fine," Scabior insisted, sniffling as his nose started running. He wiped his nose with his handkerchief, then let fly with another blazing sneeze.

His wife got him by the arm and led him away from the kitchen table. She took him upstairs and made him sit down on the edge of their bed. "I told you you needed to be vaccinated against dragon pox," she said, opening the dresser drawer and taking out a pair of her husband's favorite plaid pajama bottoms. "But you didn't listen to me, did you, Scabior?"

'No, I didn't," said Scabior. He looked just as tired as he sounded. He also sounded rather stuffed up since his nose had started to run.

He sniffed, trying to keep the warm mucus in check as it started dribbling from his nostrils. He could feel another sneeze coming on, and quickly covered his mouth with his handkerchief as another explosive sneeze erupted from his mouth and nose.

Draconius placed a pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms on the foot of the bed beside her husband. "Take off your socks," she said. "I want to examine you for signs of dragon pox, and the rash most people get is usually confined to the patient's feet when they have a mild, uncomplicated case of dragon pox."

"You think this is mild?" Scabior asked. He had a fever, his body ached, and he was feeling down right wretched. If this was a mild case of dragon pox, then he hated to think about how he would feel if things had been worse.

"Yes, I think this is a mild case," his wife replied. "But I won't know the full extent of it until you let me examine you. So you should put on your pajamas, relax, and let me have a look at you."

Scabior sighed. He knew there was no way out of this. He was sick, and the only way he was going to get any better was if he let his wife take care of him.

He got undressed and put on his pajama bottoms, then removed his socks and laid down in bed atop the covers. His wife sat down beside him on the bed, taking a moment to examine the green, scaly rash that covered his feet. In some places the purple blisters that had spread from his toes to his ankles had popped open, and were slowly oozing trace amounts of clear fluid. This was mainly due to Scabior's constant scratching, and a few of the itchy blisters had been scratched so much that they were either scabbed over or bleeding.

Draconius shook her head and frowned at the sight of the wet, crusty rash on her husband's feet. "You shouldn't be scratching so much. It's a good way to cause an infection."

"I can't 'elp it," said Scabior. "It itches so much it's driving me mad."

"Then you should have come to me sooner, Scabior. I have an herbal paste that can help relieve the itching and heal the blisters. I'll get it for you in a minute, but first I want to complete the examination." Draconius then withdrew her wand from a pocket in her dress, and muttered a brief incantation that caused a bright light to flare to life at the tip of her wand.

She leaned over him in bed and instructed him to open his mouth and stick out his tongue.

Scabior eyed her lit wand apprehensively. "Why do you want to look at my throat?" he asked. "It isn't sore or anything. For once in my life my throat is perfectly fine, pet."

"Sweetie, please don't be difficult," said Draconius. "This will only take a minute and then we're almost finished."

Scabior hesitated before opening his mouth and letting her shine the light onto his throat.

"Just as I suspected. Your tongue is purple, and there are faint purple splotches along your throat and the roof of your mouth."

"Wha?" Scabior's eyes widened as he looked at her in disbelief. "Why is my tongue purple?" He'd never heard of such a thing before. But then again he wasn't as knowledgeable about medicine as his wife was.

"It's a typical sign associated with dragon pox," Draconius explained. "In more severe cases, the rash can spread to the mouth and throat, causing itching, swelling and obstruction of the airway if it isn't treated properly. Yours is only a mild case, so I doubt if we have to worry about that happening. Still, it's something I want to monitor in case it gets worse."

The last thing she did was take his temperature, and found that he had a low grade fever.

"Only 100°," she said. "That's not bad, Scabior. And if it gets worse, I can give you a potion to help bring down your fever."

"So wha are you going to do?" asked Scabior. "Aren't you going to give me a potion tha'll cure this? I'm sure there must be something you can give me."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. But with mild cases of dragon pox it's better to let the disease run its course, because the potion that cures it can have some rather unpleasant side effects. So unless it starts getting worse, I'd rather treat the symptoms instead."

Scabior didn't look pleased to hear this. He'd been feverish, itchy and miserable for the past two days, and was hoping his wife could give him something that would cure him.

"'Ow long is this going to last?" he asked, as he leaned forward and started scratching the purple rash on his left foot.

Draconius slapped his wrist, and he quickly recoiled and stopped scratching his foot. "Seven to ten days," she said. "It's not that bad, Scabior. It's just something that makes you hot and itchy for a couple of days."

"'Ave you ever 'ad dragon pox before?"

"No, because unlike you I had enough sense to get vaccinated against the disease when I was younger. Now wait here while I get you a cold compress and something that'll help relieve the itching."

"Lovely," Scabior muttered, closing his eyes and leaning back against the mound of pillows on the bed. There was nothing he could do but try to relax and get some rest, since it was clear that he wouldn't be getting better anytime soon.

His wife returned a short time later with a jar containing a thick, sky blue paste, which she dabbed on his feet and between his toes, covering the itchy blisters with a layer of the soothing paste.

Scabior giggled and started laughing when his wife tried dabbing the paste between his toes with a cottonball. His wife tried to hold him steady as he laughed and squirmed, her hand closing around his ankle as she told him to hold still.

"I can't," Scabior snorted. "You're tickling me."

Draconius forgot how ticklish her husband was. She sighed and set the jar aside for a minute, giving Scabior time to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry," said Scabior, still grinning as she resumed dabbing the paste on his feet and toes.

When she finished applying the paste, she brought him a damp washcloth which she neatly folded and placed on his forehead. "How are you feeling?" she asked, sitting down beside him in bed.

"Better," he said. "Though still a bit 'ot and tired."

"That will go away in a few days, sweetie. For now you should try getting some rest."

Scabior closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep, but after a few seconds he felt a trickle of warm mucus slithering out of his nostrils. He sniffed and opened his eyes. It felt like water was pouring from his nose. He then let fly with another round of flaming sneezes.

His wife handed him a tissue.

"Thank you," said Scabior, and loudly blew his nose. He rolled over on his side, being careful not to let the washcloth slide off his forehead, and tucked the tissue under his cheek so that any mucus that drained from his nose would run right out onto the tissue. He then closed his eyes again and went to sleep.

.oOo.

Scabior woke up a short while later and started sniffling and sneezing, which was an unusual sight in the darkness of their bedroom, because every time he sneezed there was a flash of light that lit up the bedroom. He blew his nose, then started scratching the blisters on his feet. He itched so much he couldn't get back to sleep. He kept scratching and sneezing until his wife woke up and applied more of the soothing paste on his feet.

The next morning found Scabior sound asleep with a wad of moist tissues tucked under his cheek. His face was flushed, and strands of his red and brown hair clung to the layer of perspiration on his forehead. That, combined with the greenish discoloration of his lips and fingernails, made him look like he was decked out in festive shades of holiday colors for Christmas.

When his wife offered to make him breakfast, Scabior told her he wasn't hungry then rolled over and tried to going back to sleep.

"But you have to eat something," Draconius insisted. "You didn't eat dinner last night. And you need to eat something to keep your strength up."

Scabior groaned. Food was the last thing on his mind that morning. He was still hot and miserable, his body ached and his head was throbbing. All he wanted was to be left alone to sleep.

"How about I make you some soup and a grilled cheese sandwich?" Draconius asked. "It's mild so it won't upset your stomach."

Another groan escaped Scabior's lips, and he covered his mouth as he belched and felt bile rising in the back of his throat.

"Scabior, are you alright?" His wife looked at him with concern as she moved closer towards the bed. "You aren't going to be sick, are you?"

Scabior shook his head, his hand still clamped over his mouth. His throat and chest were burning, and the pain he felt in the back of his throat made it difficult to breathe or swallow.

"Get me a glass of water," he gasped, his eyes watering from the amount of pain he was in.

His wife brought him a glass of water, and he quickly sat up in bed and started drinking in an attempt to wash the horrific taste of burning acid out of his mouth. He downed the entire glass in seconds, gulping it down in hopes of easing the burning pain in his throat, then asked for some more.

He drank almost three glasses of water before the pain began to subside. However he still felt slightly queasy, his insides churning uncomfortably as waves of bile continued to rise up and lap at his esophagus.

Scabior held his stomach. "Pet," he moaned. "I don't feel so good. My insides are burning an I feel ill."

"You need something to soothe your stomach," said Draconius, easing the tangled strands of hair out of his face. "This is just another symptom of dragon pox. The illness mimics becoming a dragon, with green scaly skin, fever, flaming sneezes and a burning sensation in the chest and throat caused by severe heartburn."

"It's not right, though, pet. I'm a lynx. You're supposed to be the one who's a dragon, not me. I want no part in this."

"You'd rather be a cat and cough up furballs instead?"

"Yes." Scabior nodded. "Furballs are always better than fireballs. An it means I get to lick myself."

Draconius laughed. Scabior was sick but at least he still had a sense humor.

She brought him a potion that would help relieve his nausea and heartburn, then refreshed the cloth on his forehead and applied more of the sticky paste to his feet. He was starting to feel a little better after taking the potion, and decided to try eating some breakfast. But to be on the safe side, he only ate soup and toast for breakfast that morning.

.oOo.

With his wife's care and attention, Scabior slowly began to get better. There were nights he woke up scratching and sneezing, and at one point in time his fiery sneezes burned a small hole in the mattress. But aside from that he was recovering well, and within a couple days his fever broke and he started feeling better again.

Scabior made a full recovery, and by the end of two weeks most of the blisters on his feet had completely healed. However he still refused to take the oral vaccines his wife offered him.

"So you'd rather be sick than take a potion that would prevent the illness altogether?" Draconius asked. She didn't understand why he would willingly choose to run the risk of getting sick, especially when his work sometimes brought him in contact with young children who could be carrying all sorts of infectious diseases.

"Let's just say tha I enjoy the attention, sweet'eart. An the foot massages you gave me when my feet were sore an itchy," Scabior said, grinning at his wife as he spoke.

Draconius huffed out an irritated sigh. She knew he was making excuses to avoid taking the foul tasting potions that were required to prevent him from getting sick. It wasn't unusual for Scabior to refuse taking potions simply because he hated the taste of them. Although knowing him she was sure there was a part of him that secretly loved the attention he got. So it wasn't entirely an excuse to get out of taking his potions.

"You won't be getting anymore foot massages, Scabior, because once someone has dragon pox they become immune to it for life," said Draconius.

Scabior looked disappointed. "Are you sure, pet? I think the soles of my feet are still a little sore." He scrunched his lips into a pout, giving her his irresistible sad face that he sometimes used when he wanted something from her.

His wife took one look at him and laughed. "Oh grow up, Scabior! Honestly, it's like I'm married to a child."

"But I made you laugh, pet. Which means you must be amused by my childish antics."

It was true. Although she hated to admit it, Draconius adored the childish nonsense that sometimes spewed from his lips. And sick or not he was still her husband, and she would always love him no matter how he beahved or how sick he was. She just wished he would listen to her more often, and take the potions that she offered him so he wouldn't get sick as often as he usually did.