Third Person P.O.V.

135 4 2
                                    


The dark vastness of space sprawls out around many rocks forming rings and littering the immense star littered space. Among these rocks is a thrown. A man with purple skin, adorned in gold armor sits in this thrown. There is a person standing at his feet.  His blue skin covered by dark blue and gold attire.  He speaks careful of what he says as not to offend the other. 

"The humans, they are not thecowering wretches we were promised.They stand. They are unruly andtherefore cannot be ruled." 

The man with the purple skin stands. His eyes gleam with disappointment. A chin that looks like playdoh that a child pushed a pencil into multiple times. After a momentary pause, he smile a deceptive smile as if he has come up with an idea so fool proof it could not fail. 

Turning the tides of warWhere stories live. Discover now