She turned her smooth glass-like eyes on him as the doors swung shut with a resounding THUD. Those eyes... those EYES. The sclera was a deep red, like blood had flowed over and threatened to leak out her tear ducts. Her irises might have been an attractive gold color, except that they had no pupil, which made her seem eerily soulless.
He was trapped. There was no going back now.
"Welcome," she said in a voice that did not fit her face. Or did it? It was light, but grated on him like gravel against glass, the humorous lilt behind it destroyed by the acid sarcasm as she looked him over. "So you're the traveler's son. She wasn't lying. You are remarkably handsome. Such a shame that you are trapped here with me."
He nodded, hand in front of his mouth and nose to try and stanch the vomit that was climbing up his throat. He didn't know what else to do except stare at what must have once been a beautiful creature.
Her skin was a grayish green that reminded him of the dead. Her hands and feet a deep purplish red that made him thinks of the day his father died, keeled over from asphyxiation. The doctors had said his lungs didn't work properly. But this woman's purple skin seemed made to disgust the viewer, ending in claws that looked like they had overgrown and needed severe trimming. A rather thick, sort of flattened tail twitched at her feet, several spots of growths like her claws sprouting up here and there and littering what should have been a beautiful back. Scales reflected light, telling him that what he supposed to have been a slimy coating must be a snake-like skin. Her ears, as opposed to being at each side of her head, were positioned atop like a cat, and they swiveled every which way, responding to different sounds in the room. She wore no clothes, but to him, it was no distraction. As much as she looked like she COULD be attractive, nothing could make him forget the claws and colors that reminded him of death and illness. Her one redeeming feature was her hair, a deep chestnut brown that was thick and full.
He hadn't noticed it before, but the room was laid in a thick layer of dust, much unlike how his mother had described it. The velvet drapery was moth eaten and dangling by the last inches of their seams or had dropped to the floors, only the decorative rope borders remaining on the bars. The carpets were threadbare and showed scratched wooden floorboards below. The wallpaper peeled off in yards, curling into itself as though ashamed of the state of the room. When his eyes made it back to the monstrous woman on her chair, she had turned away from him, arranging a half-embroidered blanket on her lap.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"Alfred," he said.
"Alfred what? You do have more than one name, don't you?"
His ears tinged slightly. Of course he did. Before his father died he had saved up enough money to earn their family a title.
"Alfred Earnest Hager."
"Well, Mr. Hager," she said, motioning to an empty, very dusty chair across from her, "you may call me Lady Beast."
Some of the anatomy on her is actually getting changed. I'm foregoing the horns and wings. Her second set of arms is staying as is her tail, but there's detail changes.