📄 EXCERPT – Unclassified Log: Planet Virelle Survey Team 7 [Fragment Recovered from Crash Site]
Planet Name: Virelle Classification: Unstable biosphere / high bioluminescence / pheromone-reactive flora Status: Contact made with sentient species Warning Level: RED
“We thought Virelle was uninhabited. That it was just another glowing jungle planet with unstable magnetic pulses and too much airborne spore activity for colonization. We were wrong.”
🚨 FINAL ASSESSMENT
Virelle is incompatible with human colonization. The Mylians are not just openly aggressive with intruders, but their mating instinct can be a death sentence for any unadapted species.
[End log]
Lioris crouched over the limp human body sprawled across the mossy undergrowth, his antennae trembling like harp strings in a thunderstorm.
The forest had screamed when the spaceship tore the sky apart—ripping through clouds, setting trees ablaze with heat and fury—and now, silence reigned, thick and wet. The poisonous flowers around his nest had hissed in unison, their petals furling defensively as the smoke slithered in.
But this one, this strange pink-fleshed creature, had landed right outside his bloom-thorn perimeter... and hadn’t died.
That alone was a miracle. Or a sign. Or both.
"You're very ugly," Lioris whispered with deep reverence, crawling closer on all fours. “But maybe that’s a human thing.”
The human groaned.
He gasped, delighted. "You're alive! Ohohoh, don't die yet, I haven’t decided what you're for.”
He dragged the human into his nest with gentle, excited limbs—his moth wings fluttering giddily, sending dust motes of bioluminescence through the humid twilight. He tucked the male into a silk-padded corner, right beneath a glowing pod that pulsed like a heartbeat. The flowers at the edges recoiled slightly, confused by the lack of reaction to their toxins.
Lioris inhaled deeply. Yes. Still breathing. The male’s scent had begun to mingle with the pollen and spores.
And something... something in Lioris’ own chest thrummed in response.
He chirped. Loudly. The echo startled several Mirage Fawns into brief existence.
“Alright, human,” he declared solemnly, draping a wing over him with a flourish that was far too dramatic for the situation. “You’ve officially survived fifteen minutes in my nest, which is longer than all twelve of my previous suitors combined. Congratulations. I will now attempt to court you.”
The human made a soft choking noise. Possibly alive. Possibly a death rattle.
“Don’t worry,” Lioris said, patting his head with a clawed finger. “This is normal for my species.”
He paused, as if realizing something. Then straightened, narrowed his eyes, and declared proudly:
“I shall bring you berries! They’re only slightly toxic to most mammals. Which I think you are. Probably.”
He zipped off, wings scattering pollen into the already glowing air.
Behind him, the human stirred again, groaning in pain—or possibly existential confusion.
The nest pulsed gently. The flowers whispered. And Lioris, te humanoid moth, sang to himself as he prepared his most charming poisonous snack.