“A lamia!” you say. You never expected to meet one, and you wish you hadn’t. You can look out for yourself, sure, but lamias are still dangerous.
“Yes, human,” the lamia says with a nod. “Sorry if I surprised you, but you looked so lonely down there I thought you might want some company.” She chuckles and leans close to you, and you lean back before pushing her away.
“Don’t even bother,” you say. You pull her scaly tail off you and turn around, but she moves back in front of you. “Just go away. I know not to trust anything from a lamia.” You turn back around; her tail keeps slithering across you, but you push it off. As you hop onto the branch she moves back into your vision.
“Now, now,” she says, “why don’t you just let me look at you?”
Your eyes widen from a look at the lamia’s eyes. She’s looking intently at you, her eyes boring into yours, loops of color sparkling from her eyes. It’s really quite pretty . . . beautiful . . . enrapturing. Do you let her look at you with those swirling eyes?