Iktome Plains sugar, spice, and everything nice

as it turns out, the paradise in the east is real —

it's just also cold as fuck. he sniffles sullenly as he walks, nose twitching as it leaks and the irritating wet tickle starts up again. he stops suddenly, eyes half-closed, and sneezes violently. he sucks in a breath, eyes watering fiercely, and then sneezes again. aghshit he chokes out between his second and third sneeze, wiping at his face frantically with one shaking foreleg. he hates being sick. so much. it's his nomadic lifestyle, he knows, paired with the unforgiving autumn temperatures and his tendency to — well, to be a dipshit. he probably shouldn't have kissed that boy with the stuffy nose. but it was kind of worth it, even if his nose is stuffy now, and surely the next cute boy he comes across will have more sense than himself. no kisses for him. but that's okay; no one really needs kisses to be happy in paradise anyway. that's why it's paradise.