[ sounds like a fate worse than death. he can't imagine being allergic to any one that he's particularly close to, which is basically no one to begin with. being close means he's comfortable, which means he's not as alert as he should be among his own kind... and that's a problem.

to be honest, being buried alive and left to die is worse. but just barely. ]

Then I guess you don't have any ribika or anything like us, huh.

[ this human, this 'two canes'...

konoe's finally done with his share of the cleaning, his fur matted in some places but the dirty feeling is gone. nothing left that might agitate him, anyway. ]

Do you want this back? If I'm going to make you feel ill, I don't want to...

[ he frets, a defeated frown being mirrored by drooping ears and a lifeless tail. ]