Chainsaw Man Eye Patch Woman Novels & Stories

“Lachesis, this is the girl!” As she leans down to help me up, a tall, thin woman approaches us. Everything about her reminds me of spindles, down to her fingertips. Her soft blonde and white hair is in a bun, held in place by decorative sticks. Her gray eyes hold thousands of years of compassion and rage, hope and despair, yearning and disgust, all just under the surface of her thin, smiling lips. She is wearing a long flowy dress but what catches my eye is her eye. Or should I say, a pendant holding an eyeball that looks just like the Luna Regent’s?

Peter’s irises shrunk and he took a few steps back. “Didn’t you want to see how I look, mister?” the girl said. A deep, long scar could be seen on the girl’s face, sliced across one of her eyes. It was clear that the eye was hurt to the point of deforming the eyelid. Yet, it was unclear if the eye was blind from the injury. “Do you want a clearer view?” Upon saying that, the girl took off her mask, showing her face to everyone in the room. She even flicked her hair.

The person wore a mask, and the exposed skin was covered in hideous frostbite scars and burns that looked like centipedes—marks left by the extreme cold. Only the eyes were visible. Those eyes, once watery and alluring, were now bloodshot and filled with murderous insanity. They stared unblinkingly at the woman in the window wearing the white wedding dress, looking blindingly happy. She reached out a hand—missing half its fingernails and covered in soot—and gently stroked the reflection on the glass. A terrifying, raspy chuckle escaped her throat, sounding like broken bellows. "So beautiful... Ivy." "Do you deserve to wear such a clean dress? Do you deserve happiness?"

Someone grabs my chin roughly and I flutter my eyes open to meet two glowing sapphire-like eyes. “Welcome home mate!” He hisses in my face and whips my head back into the ground. I blink away the black dots trying to regain focus. I see a woman in the corner who has a soft shade of pink eyes and is wearing nearly all black. Her hair is white and she looks at me with disgust. “Why can’t I feel her yet? Her power isn’t filling me!” He growls and I feel a foot crash into my ribs a whimper coming from me. She looks at him with a defensive look.

The person wore a mask exposing just the eyes but from the shape, I could tell it was a woman “Thought you’d won, didn’t you?” she whispered, her voice sweet as poison. “Silly little human.” Then she twisted the knife.

Adan said, shaking the woman’s hand. “Pleasure’s mine,” she said, looking up at him with googly eyes. Adan smiled. The woman had short, dark red hair and heavy-lidded eyes. She was wearing way too much eye makeup. Adan figured he could put her in glasses, and have her tie her hair back, to get her looking more serious and studious. “Have a seat.” He pulled a chair out for her, and then sat down on the other side of the table.

The light hurt my eyes. “You’re finally awake. I was starting to think my nephew had bought a defective model.” I jumped, my heart jumping into my throat. A woman was sitting in a high-backed velvet chair in the corner of the room. She was holding a long, slim cigarette holder, the smoke curling toward the ceiling. She wore a tailored purple suit and a silk scarf tied perfectly around her neck. Her hair was a sharp, silver bob, and her eyes were the same predatory grey as Silas’s.

The woman stared intently at her out of curiosity. "You must be the one he brought home. Strange. He never brings anyone home." She said, and Mara began to feel scared "Him? Who is he?" she asked the woman looking frightened now. Her gray and silver locks were pulled into a tight bun, and dark glasses were perched on her nose, making it impossible to see her eyes. There were wrinkles on her cheeks and hands, belying her advanced age. Despite her shaking fingers, she somehow managed to sew whatever she was repairing. "Well, don't just stand and gawk over there, child. Come and sit."

Or would Slade forever only have one eye now. “Did it work?” the woman asked, her eyes hopeful. I looked deep into her eyes. She did look a lot like Eden. So much so, that I’d almost mistaken her for Eden at the bottom of the canyon. But then the woman had shape shifted into a cougar and dragged me away. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, just like Eden’s. She had the same depth in her eyes, like you could see straight into her soul. There were fine lines around her eyes when she smiled that bespoke her age. But her skin was flawless.

” I feel her claw graze against the skin under my chin, pressing into the flesh there, forcing my head up. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, icy and cold, so chilly that many might shiver. I’d dare say that the young woman before me might be beautiful, if it weren’t for that sadistic gleam in her eyes. Holding my eyes, attempting to devour any fear, she slides her claw down my throat catching the fabric of my loose, damp, dangling shirt. In one swift motion the damp fabric was sliced, the heavy fabric falling and dangling at my shoulders. She smiles, a cheshire grin making her face its home.