From the character’s viewpoint
I’m a hard worker. Most of us in this sector are we have to be. My hair is long, longer than most of the other women in this village. It helps that I have the ability to say no in five different village dialects. Most are still surprised to see someone with such dark skin and yet still having a full head of hair. Many of the planet’s decedents are caramel in color, short and plump. I tend to tower over them, my frame slender but muscular. Sometimes though, I wonder with technology so advanced, they can fly me to this barren planet. Why can’t they pump water to the village?
From the character’s worst enemy’s viewpoint
I hate that she uses me. Thinking she’s better than everyone around her. As if that long ebony hair is something special. She comes with the rustic basket looking for my fish. Her nets plunge into my water with those slender arms. When she barks to her followers, she tries to show authority. It makes me gurgle with laughter. With one swift current I can take those long legs from under her, drowning that dark skinned creature, covering her bright clothes with my silt. Never again would the two legs drink from my well again.
From the viewpoint of someone who realizes they don’t know the character at all
I looked up to her. Her eyes were so bright with ideas. Deep brown jewels of wisdom that spout ways we can better ourselves. I could have watched her mouth forever as it moved with such fluidity. Dreams of irrigation, feeding our fields, thoughts rolled off her tongue. I thought I knew her. I knew of her, but did not know her. Reality set in. That muscular but slender figure, so strong, set her outside our people. She came from far away to try to help us and now she says, “We must pump the river.” I shake my head. Despite her lavish words of hope—she will never know our River God. And we really, don’t know her at all.
