You yank your head away from her sight and stumble. You suddenly feel drowsy, and the jungle is hazy. What did she do to you? The jungle sounds are deep and deafened as well, as if there’s stuffing in your ears.
But one sound comes through perfectly clear: “You don’t want me to look at you?” the lamia says. You feel her scales snake around the back of her head and you shiver; it’s hard to stand straight, and she helps right you. Regardless, the haze is starting to lift, and you remember her eyes were doing something strange. The lamia pulls your head back towards her.
“Then you look at me.”
You find her looking back into your eyes with her swirling colors and the haze becomes heavy again. She asked you to look at her—but isn’t that the same thing as her looking at you? Either way could spell danger with those pulsating eyes . . . of beautiful, stunning colors, that could instead spell soothing relaxation. Do you look at her?
Duth Olec's Cuckoo Cosmos 