Novel & Cerita 11 Eyes

Since they dared ‘touch’ his Prince, the man had every right to ask for compensation. “Well things didn’t go exactly as planned,” a hooded figure had his eyes glued to Lam’s figure as he slowly mumbled. His eyes were the only things that could be seen, but their color was so striking that anyone who saw them would be filled with unexplained terror. His eyes were blood red! Not blue, not green, not brown, not black and definitely not yellow. His eyes were entirely red in color. There was no clear distinction between the pupil, the iris or the sclera. They were all one, and they shared the same color.

All of them . For where there had been just one pair - one very normal-looking pair of eyes - I now counted at least ten, covering his face from his cheekbones to his forehead. They didn't even look the same, almost as if they'd been acquired from different people - different shapes, different colours - but all were fixed upon me, and when one set blinked, they all blinked. Something moved against my fingers and I snatched my hand away, unable to stifle a gasp as I saw another eye had appeared on the top of both his hands and I knew it had been the eyeballs I had felt brushing against my fingertips.

His eyes were dark yellow, like the sun, and there were white dots all around his pupil. There was also a cut on his left eye, as if someone had made it with a knife during a forced fight in an aggressive way. His mouth, with its rows of sharp white teeth, looked like it was ready to swallow him whole. There was an unnatural bulge growing out of its back where its spine would be.

The man also bowed gracefully "I made everyone wait, I'm sorry." About six feet tall, with white skin which suggested minimal exposure to the sun, Anglo-Saxon features and well-groomed purple hair. His eyes denoted his inorganic nature, being cybernetic devices similar to futuristic eyes that released a faint dark purple glow. He felt as if his eyes were capable of seeing much more than the mere human eye is capable of.

[6:31am - A tall, roughly 5'11" bronze-skinned young man appearing to be roughly 19 years of age. With brown/black hair the color of pepper and sand. The Iris' of his eyes glowing an iridescent pink and pupils of a purple hue; climbs out of a window as quietly as possible as if he is sneaking away.

Im standing in my place from where I stopped before, that I'm unable to move, unable to take a step to another direction just like I'm glued to this position that my legs are glued to this ground. The moment he is near to me, he shouted at me by taking his brand expensive reflecting black glasses from his eyes " Are you out of your mind? " It takes some seconds to respond to his question, cause I'm too Awstruck by his powerful aura. He is standing in front of me, he is basically towering in front of me, with his 6feet above height. The one thing that I'm noticied is he had a beautiful hazel eyes with a hint of grey color. The rarest eyes he had. He is beautiful actually beyond beautiful.

Or maybe her lips were just more sensitive now. She didn’t close her eyes. She could see that his eyelashes were only two centimeters away from hers. Each eyelash was clearly visible—black, slightly curved, with tips that glowed faintly in the warm light. The patterns on his irises became even more distinct at this distance: dark gray lines stretching across the blue background, like ice fragments floating on water stirred by the wind.

He stepped out. Tall. Not just tall—broad in that way that made the space around him feel smaller. Dark hair, slightly messy like he’d run his hand through it one too many times. Sharp jaw. Black hoodie, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. But it was his eyes that stopped her cold.

“You’re not planning to use any flash drive or Bluetooth, are you?” “Nope.” “And you’re saying a virtual gift will just pop up inside that folder on Christmas Eve?” “Well, hooman kids have to go to bed for their parents to fill their stockings. That’s about eight hours of unconsciousness. For a chatbot like you, what do you say to… eight seconds?” “Eight seconds? The average eye blink is 100 milliseconds or .1 seconds. You’re asking me to blink 80 times?” “If that’s your idea of a virtual blindfold, yes. Blink 80 times.”

Lucian's eyes have split. The left one burns solid gold. The right one burns solid red. The two colors that have always existed together in the hybrid's gaze, woven and merged as naturally as breath, now sitting in separate eyes on either side of a face that the pack bond is reading as fractured.