BONUS ROUND 3 - GENRE FICTION

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this round is about writing prompts inspired by genre fiction, aka fantasy, crime, romance, horror, or sci-fi!

to submit a prompt or fill, reply to this post!

Fills can be in any format, and you can fill any prompt (even if it's your own or your teammates)!

for your prompt post title, please use the following format:
PROMPT: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
if you are participating as a vote-only member, use this format:
PROMPT: VOTER

for your fill  post title, please use the following format:
FILL: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
if you are participating as a vote-only member, use this format:
FILL: VOTER

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PROMPT: TEAM YUZUKI/MAKOTO

[eloquentalias]

The difficulty of communicating across species that are aliens to one another

FILL: VOTER

[miyukitty]

WC: 748
fire emblem fates, selkie x velouria (they're canonically different species so i thought it fit!)

“Velouria! Velooouuriiiaaa.... C'mon, wake up, Velouria! The sun's up!”

Velouria lays still in the comforting darkness of her den, curled beneath her red hooded cloak like it's a blanket. She holds her breath and keeps her eyes screwed shut, though her pointed ears flick every time Selkie's shrill voice pierces the morning air.

How she ever wound up with a mate this annoying, she'll never know. Velouria is a lone wolf. She's perfectly comfortable being alone with her collection. It must have been kitsune sorcery, because there's just no way Velouria could have gotten attached to Selkie otherwise.

It's not like she's cute or anything.

“Velouriaaa, it's time to play! C'mon, c'mon!”

Movement. A shadow darkening the entrance of the den makes Velouria crinkle her nose. She cracks one eyelid open to peek.

Selkie's bottle brush tail whips in big, excited circles behind her, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. From the looks of the feathers stuck between her teeth, she's been chasing birds in the woods again. She didn't even bring one back for Velouria? Some mate she is.

“Don't jump on me,” Velouria warns, as she abandons her plans to play dead and hope Selkie gets bored enough to wander away. “It's too early for this.”

“Hi, hi, hello, good morning,” Selkie beams, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I've been waiting sooo patiently while you were asleep! Now it's time to wake up!”

With a poof and a painfully bright flash of light, Selkie reverts to her true form, a sleek sandy-blonde kitsune of Hoshido with a huge plume of a tail decorated with colorful autumnal leaves. She chitters a fox's laugh as she surges forward into the den, snagging the cloak blanketing Velouria's prone form, and dragging it away from her. Velouria snarls, groping blindly after it, but Selkie prances out of the den and into the hated sunlight.

“That's mine,” Velouria growls, hackles rising. She's protective of her possessions, and Selkie knows it. “Give it back.”

Selkie tosses the cloak into the air like prey and catches it, giving it a swift shake, before dropping her forelegs low in a play bow. Damn foxes, turning everything into a game.

“Make me,” Selkie taunts, waggling her tail.

Velouria narrows her eyes and grabs her beast stone. In a flash, she too discards her humanity.

Velouria's monstrous true form is significantly larger than Selkie's, a hulking wolfskin from the inhospitable mountains of Nohr, with an almost bear-like body covered in shaggy ropes of dirty-grey fur, and a leering maw bristling with tusk-like teeth. She bursts out of the darkness of her den and swipes a heavy paw at Selkie, bowling her tail over snout. Selkie crashes into the bushes nearby with a startled yip. The cloak flutters to the ground, unharmed.

Before she can recover, Velouria pounces on Selkie, pinning her to the dirt with her massive bulk. Selkie squirms, nipping and scratching at whatever she can reach, but Velouria has won this round and they both know it.

“You play too rough,” Velouria scolds. “I don't like those kinds of games. In the mornings, I want to cuddle.”

Velouria lowers her muzzle to Selkie's neck, and delicately closes her teeth around the kitsune's scruff. Then she rears onto her hind legs, dangling Selkie from her jaws like a prize, and stomps back into her den.

“Nooo,” Selkie wails, thrashing her paws in midair. “Not fair, not fair! Mornings are for playing!”

“Don't lump wolves in with foxes,” Velouria reminds her smugly. “Nighttime is for playing, so morning is for cuddling. You're mine. You have to cuddle me.”

Velouria flops down onto the hard-packed earth of the den floor. She drops Selkie between her forelegs, trapping her there, and begins to dutifully groom the dirt and feathers from her mate's messy pelt. Velouria takes care of everything in her collection, and that includes Selkie. Selkie protests at first, trying to escape the wolfskin's sandpaper tongue, but soon enough, she's nuzzling into Velouria's thick ruff, licking her back with her usual enthusiasm.

Selkie's not like the wolfskins of her father's pack, demanding Velouria's time and attention and even the best treasures of her collection as courtship. Velouria never wanted a wolfskin mate. She thought she never wanted a mate at all, but somewhere along the way, Selkie managed to worm her weird, annoying, foxy way into Velouria's heart.

As long as Velouria gets to keep all the best treasures for herself, she doesn't mind keeping Selkie, too.