Heather Rose vs. Proper Prim - Winner: Heather Rose (by Vote)
A Proper Heath - by Heather Rose's Author
After the final bows had been given, the curtain closed, and the audience's hoofstomps faded. The two black-clad stagehooves breathed a sigh of relief: opening night had gone flawlessly.
They shared a high-hoof before trotting down the stairs, eager for the stage manager to give them their release for the night. Visions of removing their sweaty black shirts and unwinding in one of the nearby taverns danced tantalizingly before them, so the last thing they wanted to see was the face of Proper Prim. Unfortunately, that—and the rest of the unicorn—was waiting for them at the base of the stairs.
"That was the worst set-dressing I've seen in years!" She didn't even wait until their hooves had touched the hallway floor. "The farmhouse flat was too far stage right—didn't you see the spikes on the floor? The split-rail fence was backwards, and it wasn't even supposed to be on stage in scene four. And don't even get me started about the flowers!"
The two stagehooves shared a glance and wisely kept their mouths shut. They didn’t want to get her started about the flowers.
"Nothing? Argh!" Proper Prim yanked her glasses down and glared at the hapless ponies. "It's Hinny of the Hills, not Hinny of the Middenheap. When ponies come to see the play, they want to see proper flowers—fresh flowers. They want to smell them. They want the scene to evoke an open heath, not a heap of compost! I don't want to know where you found those flowers, but I want fresh flowers on stage tomorrow—I want flowers so fresh that one of the actors gets stung by a bee."
"There aren't any in town—it's some noble's wedding."
"Yeah. We looked. This was the best we could find. Maybe next weekend—"
"Next weekend? Next weekend, the house will be closed, because the critics will have all panned the show." Proper Prim rubbed a hoof across her forehead and sighed. "I'll get the flowers . . . you're going to be spending all afternoon arranging them. G'wan, get out of here!"
The two stagehooves didn't need any further prompting; they trotted past the set designer before she could find something else to gripe about.
Bright and early the next morning, Proper Prim had boarded the first train to Ponyville. If you want the right flowers, she'd thought, get them from the source. Her muzzle was stuck out the window, her head on a swivel as the the train made its way across the hilly terrain in the direction of Ponyville.
This was hardly her first trip there; much of her set design had been inspired by the traditional Ponyville landscape. She'd spent days prowling the roads around town, studying the color of the homes and the nature of the fallow fields. It had been a pleasant change from the countless hours she'd spent cooped up in the library researching the set for The Honorable Gate.
Just as the train began slowing for the Ponyville station, it rounded a gentle curve, and there in front of her muzzle was the field of her dreams. The heather was in full bloom: a lake of purple blossoms swaying dreamily in the gentle breeze, wafting their heady scent into her coach. For just a moment she thought of jumping out of the window, but luckily for her bones, sanity reared its head, and she remained seated.
There was a mare in the field, and she was sure that if she started asking around at the train station, she could find the field again. After all, this was a small town, where everypony knew everypony.
• • •
From her vantage point, she could have been anywhere. Looking to the north as she was, the field of heather spread in front her, waving cheerfully in the gentle breeze. Ponyville was on her left flank, and Canterlot couldn't quite be seen unless she turned her head right; from her vantage point, there was nothing but nature to be seen. Some ponies might have been bothered by the solitude, but Heather Rose wasn't. Sure, she liked spending time at the market and spa, and she liked gossiping with other mares as much as anypony else, but it was moments like this that made her feel complete—there was nothing ponymade to be seen, only her and her namesake flower.
Her gardening trowel forgotten at her hooves, she just watched her field live. Bees buzzed from the flowers to her hive, doing their part of an age-old dance that would continue long after ponies were gone.
A distant chuffing caused her to look towards Canterlot in irritation. This interruption was routine—trains came by all the time. There were already four a day, and she’d heard that soon there would be another two. That was too many trains for her liking.
She wasn’t opposed to the concept of trains, and indeed, they were convenient when she wanted to visit her family back in Canterlot, but they were just too loud and too sooty. As often as not, the fine ash from the smokestack settled on her field; judging by the way the wind was blowing, today would not be an exception.
She caught the blur of faces peering out the windows as the train roared by, although they went too quickly for her to recognize any of them. Sometimes she wondered who they were and where they were going—and whether they were curious about her, too.
Heather Rose turned her head as the smoke cloud dissipated and settled on her field, briefly masking the scent of the flowers. She hoped it wasn’t thick enough to bother the bees.
She bent down and picked her trowel back up. The weeds wouldn't uproot themselves, and while the heather could fend for itself, it needed a helping hoof to reach its full potential.
• • •
Proper Prim’s mission proved somewhat more difficult than anticipated; whether the result of an honest error or somepony with a weird sense of humor, Prim found herself directed towards the home of a skittish mare who bore a passing resemblance to her. After convincing Daisy that she was not, in fact, a long-lost sister, Prim finally got accurate directions to the heather field on the outskirts of town.
She suppressed a grimace as she knocked on the door of the small house. She could imagine the inside already—rustic would be generous, while ready to be condemned was a real possibility. Of course, nopony answered the door, and Prim flicked her tail in annoyance at her stupidity. It stood to reason that the owner was still out standing in her field: she’d seen her there when the train passed.
Prim took one brief look at her clean Canterlot hooves, and then walked around the house towards the field of heather. Taking care to follow the narrow winding paths through the field, she made her way to the lone earth pony.
The slight breeze must have been blowing in her direction, because she was deep in the field before the earth pony took notice of her, which gave her a good chance to get a look at the mare.
Her mane and tail were a deep rosewood, and—to Prim's mind—rather disheveled. Certainly a contrast to her own manestyle, but about what she'd expect from a farm mare. However, her light magenta coat looked well-groomed, and she even had a sprig of heather for a cutie mark.
"Hello!"
Heather Rose snapped her head around at the sound of the voice. It wasn't somepony she knew, and she spent a moment taking stock of her visitor before answering. The stranger had a carnation pink coat and a lime-green mane pulled back in a loose bun. For an instant she thought Daisy had gotten dressed up for a dance, complete with a fake horn and black-framed glasses. Then the moment passed, and she realized that this was a complete stranger, who was standing in the middle of her field.
She didn't like her already. It was rude to walk in somepony else's flowers.
"Can I help you?"
"Oh, I hope so." Prim pushed her glasses up her muzzle. "I think—I think you may be uniquely qualified to help me." She took a few steps towards Heather Rose and stuck out a hoof. "I'm Proper Prim—Prim to my friends."
"Heather Rose." The extended foreleg was reluctant, and covered to the fetlock in mud.
Nevertheless, Prim bumped it lightly. "I'm a set designer for the Canterlot Community Theater. We're doing a production of Hinny of the Hills. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
Heather Rose nodded slowly. "Wasn't it playing in Manehattan last year? I heard Rarity talking about it at the spa."
"Yes!" Prim smiled. "We were lucky to get rights so soon after they completed their run."
"Did you come all the way out here to tell me about your play?" Heather Rose gave Prim a confused look. "That's nice of you, but—"
"No, of course not." Prim made a sweeping motion with her hoof. "Listen. When one thinks of Hinny, one thinks of the hills and dales covered with heather in bloom." Her ears drooped. "But when they see our production, all they'll see is some sorry wilted weeds that my useless set crew probably found in a dumpster behind a restaurant. It won't evoke anything from the audience, except perhaps pity for Hinny when she sings 'Paradise for Two'. What I want, Miss Rose, is actual heather in bloom. And I want a lot of it."
"A lot?"
"A lot. Let me be perfectly frank: I want my stage to look like your field."
The two mares looked across the field. Heather Rose tried to imagine it reduced, and constrained by the wings of the stage, while Prim saw a simpler artful vision which would make ponies think beyond the confines of the stage.
They stood that way in silence for a minute, the only sounds the quiet drone of bees and whispery rustling of leaves, before Heather Rose broke into a smile. "Come back to the house; I'll make us tea."
• • •
While her host was in the kitchen, Prim glanced around the room. Despite its slightly bedraggled exterior—which, to be fair, was hard to avoid in a half-timbered house with a thatched roof—the interior was spotlessly clean. Almost too clean for a farmhouse. It wouldn't be believable on stage.
Heather Rose, too, was spotlessly clean. She'd rinsed her hooves obsessively on the back stoop, even using a stiff bristle brush on the bottoms to get the stubborn dirt around her shoes and frogs. When she’d finished and proffered the brush, Prim had wordlessly followed suit, then allowed herself to be escorted into a sitting room.
While she was waiting for her host to finish in the kitchen, Prim looked around the tidy room. A framed sepia photograph on the wall caught her attention, and she walked over to get a closer look.
It was a fairly conventional pose, with a mare and stallion bracketing their filly. The stallion was wearing a jacket which looked to be about one size too small for him, while the mare was more demure, and wore her blouse with an ethereal grace. The filly, who was unmistakably Heather Rose, had been caught mid-squirm by the photographer. Of more interest was the building in the background—even from across the room, it had looked familiar, but the address plaque beside the door sealed the deal.
"You're from Canterlot," Prim said as Heather Rose returned, a salver loaded with tea, cream, rock sugar, and biscuits balanced on her back.
"Yes." She reached around and set the tray on the table between them. "But I moved here after primary school. I thought Canterlot was too fake." Her ears fell as she realized what she'd just said, but Prim just let out a hearty laugh.
"My dear Miss Rose, you've hit the nail right on the head. But what better place for a playhouse, eh?"
"Rosie—it's Rosie to my friends."
"Of course." Prim waited until Heather Rose had poured them each a cup of tea. She watched her new friend's motions carefully: it wasn't even a conscious behavior. While Prim would never claim to be an actor, she often had to seamlessly blend into shindigs and hobnob with nobles to secure funding for a show. They always wanted to know what their bits were being spent on, and the surest way to get a polite 'no thanks' was to commit some social faux pas. So she watched, and when her turn came, she added the rock sugar, poured the cream into her tiny cup, and drank it without stirring, just as Heather Rose had.
At first sip, it was dark and bitter, but as the cream and sugar dissolved into the tea, the flavor changed. Much like meeting a new pony, Prim thought. Heather Rose had sweetened into Rosie, and the two made easy small-talk as the two took their tea together.
They didn't discuss business until the cups were empty, but Prim already knew that they would reach a deal together, and they did. Proper Prim went back to the train station in the company of a blue stallion, who was hauling a cart full of fresh-picked heather—she could attest to its freshness, since she'dnjust helped pick it. Heather Rose found herself many bits richer, with the promise of more to come during the show's run.
It was, Prim thought as the train began its climb to Canterlot, a very successful day: not only did have her flowers, but like any small-town deal, they had also parted ways with personal gifts. The unicorn was six complimentary tickets poorer, and a dozen bottles of heather ale richer. Prim intended to put one of those to good use after she'd finished redecorating the stage, since she couldn't trust the stagehooves to realize her artistic vision.
The show that night was a huge success—she'd even heard weeping during Hinny's heartfelt solo. It would have been just the perfect end to the perfect day . . . except the stagehooves set the fence backwards again.
Heather Rose vs. Proper Prim - by Proper Prim's Author
According to the critics, the Canterlot run of Hinny to the Hills had been a smash success. Record sales at the box office, multiple nominations for awards, and to top it all off, Proper Prim had received numerous letters from directors across Equestria to design their sets. What wasn’t there to celebrate?
Prim sat at the corner table of Barley Rose Brews, doodling on a napkin. All around her, the cast and crew of the show was having a great time, celebrating the closing night of the show. Across the table, a few extras were getting into an alcohol-induced debate over who was more important.
“I got a line during the bakery scene!” boasted the gray pegasus, slamming his beer stein against the table.
The blue unicorn sitting next to him scoffed at his face. “Pff. I got two lines when they were captured by the Germanes!”
“Oh, yeah? Well, how about you try saying your lines when you get your lights knocked out!” The pegasus grabbed his stein and swung it at him, knocking the unicorn to the floor. Retaliating, the unicorn hopped up and punched him square in the muzzle, landing in a furious heap on the ground.
Prim looked up and scowled at them. She would never tolerate this kind of behavior from her own build crew, so why were the directors content to have their actors going around making fools of themselves? She sighed and went back to doodling on her napkin.
It wasn’t long before an irate magenta mare walked out and stood next to the bickering pair. She grabbed them both by the neck and muttered, “I really don’t have time for this. Now, you can either start to get along like civilized ponies or I’m going to have to have my dad throw you out. Do I make myself clear?”
Grumbling, the two stallions broke apart and walked toward the door. Once they were out of the sight, the mare who had broken them apart took a seat at Prim’s table and collapsed. “Ugh. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to work the brewery. All these drunkards starting fights… how does mom deal with this every day?”
Prim ignored the mare, adding more details to the napkin. Across the table, the mare had found a discarded straw, and was listlessly twirling it around. "Have I really changed that much since I left for Ponyville? Before I left, I used to be able to handle even the rowdiest drunks. Now I’m exhausted from a couple of bickering idiots.”
“Excuse, me miss, but why are you telling me this? I know I’m quiet, but you seem awfully trustworthy of someone I just met.” Prim spat out her pencil and adjusted her glasses.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” the mare stuttered, dropping her straw. “I guess I just started talking to myself, and didn’t realize you were there, and well, once I get going…”
She quietly chuckled to herself.
Prim smirked. “Very well. I don’t mind a little chit-chat here and there. You're free to sit here, Miss… I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh! Sorry about that. The name’s Heidenröslein, but my friends call me Heather Rose.” She picked up her straw and gestured to a sign bearing the bar’s name. “I’m the owner’s daughter, but I’m only helping out because I had a delivery in Canterlot and decided to see my parents.”
Prim nodded as she picked up her pencil with her mouth and quietly continued working. As she meticulously scribbled on what little space she left on the napkin, Heather inched her way around the table until she was right next to her. “Wait a minute. If you’re a unicorn, why are you drawing with your mouth?”
Prim spat out the pencil and glared at her. “You only now just noticed that? Geez, the things only sticking right out the front of my head. I normally am a very reserved mare, but you’re very nosy.” She grumbled as she slid her chair away and grabbed another napkin out of the dispenser.
Heather sat there glumly for a few seconds, tuning out the chaotic noise of the party going on around her. She put her head down on the table, noticing that the stranger had left the napkin sitting there. Every inch of it was covered in pencil marks, which upon closer inspection were sketches of what looked like the inside of a house.
“Wow. You really are a beautiful artist. I wish I could draw like that,... what was your name again? I’ve already blurted out my life story to you, the least you could do is give me a name.”
“It’s Prim,” she said, “Proper Prim, to be precise. I’m the stage designer for Hinny to the Hills, but I doubt you’d know that. Most ponies couldn’t care less about what I do.” She sighed, put down the pencil and looked down at the table.
Heather looked at the napkin again. That wasn’t just a house she had drawn out of boredom, that was probably her working on a set for some new show. “Well, if that’s the case, then this is a really beautiful set you’ve drawn here.”
Prim rolled her eyes as a tiny grin appeared back on her face. “Oh, don’t kid yourself. This is only a rough sketch. I can’t quite figure out what to have the walls look like, but what I have here would look disgraceful on stage. But hey, what would you know about matching wall colors?”
Heather gave a hearty chuckle. “I guess so. I have a nice and tidy shop back in Ponyville, but it’s probably the plainest place in town. Not that it matters what it looks like, nobody has any use for heather anyway.”
“Well, I sure hope nobody wants to use you!” said Prim with a laugh. Heather Rose couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “All naming puns aside, don’t underestimate the value of a good design. Given what I’ve heard about Ponyville, you might want to give it a calm, cheerful feeling.”
“So like a spa? Whenever I go to the spa back in Ponyville, I always feel calm and cheery.” Proper Prim sat there dumbstruck by the odd comment. “Oh, sorry about that, Prim. Carry on.”
“Well, I guess it isn’t a bad comparison, though you may want to avoid having any hot tubs. That might be distracting to any potential customers.” Heather broke into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. “Oh my. I haven’t had anything to drink yet and I’m already making terrible jokes all over the place!”
Heather's eyes shot open. “Did you say you haven’t had anything to drink yet? My friend, you're missing out on the best brews this side of the pond! If I know my mother, you’re gonna love this.” She hollered to a waiter carrying a tray across the room. “Hey, Tapper! Can you get us two of mom’s best? Tell ‘em it’s on the house!”
Prim blushed. “Oh, you don’t have to do anything of that sort for me. I’m not a drinker, anyway.”
“Well, then you’ve never had my mom’s brews.” Tapper came back to the table, carrying a tray with two frothy steins of dark ale. Prim levitated a few coins out of her purse, only to be stopped by Heather. “No need for that. It’s on me.”
Prim levitated the beer steins off of the tray, taking one for herself. While Heather grabbed hers greedily and began chugging it down, Prim nervously lifted the glass to her lips and took a small sip. She swished the beer around in her mouth, absorbing the caramel flavor of the beer. “Wow, this really is quite the beer,” she said as she took another, much larger sip from her glass.
“Told you so.” Heather raised her glass in the air triumphantly. "In my family, it's tradition to toast whenever we make a new friend. So I propose a toast. To a bloomin' new friendship?"
Prim reluctantly raised her glass to Heather's. "Yeah. To a blooming new friendship."
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HEATHER ROSE AUTHOR VOTE
I'm going to give this one to Heather Rose.
While I prefer the character of Proper Prim in both these entries, the Rose entry took it's time to really build up a sense of atmosphere. I liked Prim's interaction with the stagehands and the slow formed warming of relationship between Prim and Rose.
OBS STOP CRYING
Heather Rose's Author
Interesting. I far preferred the character of Proper Prim as described in the compendium—there seemed to be more to work with there, and it would've been more accessible to other character in the contest.
Yet here we are in the actual entries, and Heather Rose's author's take is definitely superior, to me. The Proper Prim entry just seems to slap the characters together and force them to interact, while the Heather Rose entry takes a far more natural route. Moreover, the characters themselves feel more relatable/bearable/evocative of what's on their sheets in the Heather Rose entry. And it's edited more thoroughly, to boot.
Neither was perfect or without some measure of contrivance, but I've got to hand it to Heather Rose's author, as much as that disappoints me purely in terms of the flexibility of the character.
Heather Rose's Author vote
Both were very good, and it was hard to choose, honestly, but what decided it for me was, at the end of "A Proper Heath," this line:
Why? Well, I like it when authors end their stories with a bit of a sigh. You could see Prim facehoofing at the backwards fence, even when the story ends on a high note.
Sorry if that isn't all that explanatory, I just like endings like that.
Heather Rose's Author
Oh man, this is going to take forever. I only have until Friday before I leave my internet behind.
Heather Rose's author
As others have said, this story had more build-up to it, felt more natural, and established more of an atmosphere. It's a clear choice to me, going just by the stories themselves. I'm not actually reading the character sheets alongside these, so I'm leaving it purely up to the stories to tell me who these characters are, and going by that, I think Heather's entry provided me with a much better introduction to both.
Heather Rose's Author
Adding to what others have said, the first does a much better job introducing the characters, getting them to interact, and building up their relationship. The second story is decent and probably better than most of the other stories around here, but it had the bad luck of going up against one of the best stories I've seen so far.
Calling it now-- Heather Rose's author is a well known ponyficcer. Talk about a tough first opponent.
Other people have said all that needs to be said, so I'd like to focus on the lessons here that everyone in the contest can take away:
Be bold with the other character. You won't get anywhere by just respecting what's there. The profile is just a starting point.
Have some action. Note how important the events of this story are. That's a powerful tool for being engaging and unique.
Use what works. See how both these characters make use of the detail about Rose's parents, and note how easily and naturally Rose's author uses it.
Heather Rose's Author Vote
Frankly, I'm a bit confused on both of these. Both adaptations of Prim seemed somewhat odd, considering the bio given. As well, though Heather Rose's is clearly the better written of the two (while you started off fine, Prim, you just lost it as you kept going. Very confusing, very bizarre), I would say watch out only including your character as effectively the secondary. Frankly, with Prim, the character doesn't feel right as a pony. Name, talent, cutie mark... These don't seem to really fit with one another. Heather Rose isn't bad, but neither is she great--but you do make up for that in the writing. So good job there.
Heather Rose's Author Vote
Heather Rose's fic was engaging and hilarious, although the ending was a bit rushed. I love how s/he characterized Prim. While I can see the virtue in Prim's piece, it simply didn't capture me.
Heather Rose's Author
While it seems like jumping on a bandwagon at this point, I do have to cast my vote for the first story. It possessed a stronger overall voice, is more inventive in its narrative, and gave each character a better role to play. Whereas the latter was set in a bar--a well-used method of story-writing--the former plants its characters in soil that will let them fully flower. It gives them grounding, which in turn gives their later interaction greater focus and depth.
And that's about all I'll say here, because any more would just be tooting a kazoo on the aforementioned bandwagon.
Heather Rose's Author Vote
I enjoyed the interactions more in the first story than in the second. I also felt that the first story had better pacing and build up.
Heather Rose's Author
Heather Rose's Author
Yeaaah... I honestly liked the first story better. I feel that Prim was a more realistic character and her personality was described more by actions than exposition.
Heather Rose's Author.
Proper Prim's author did a good job with the interaction and the OCs. I liked the development of the friendship as well, but Heather Rose's author did a lot, while making the OCs interact/say very little and while it wasn't as complete as Proper Prim's entry, it felt better due to masterful use of exposition and character action for both Proper Prim and Heather Rose.
Heather Rose's Author
Heather Rose's author
Don't think we need any more votes on this chapter. . . .
HEATHER ROSE'S AUTHOR
A Proper Heath
Liked: Proper Prim is excellent; you are definitely Doing It Right.
Disliked: Too much time spent setting up: the scenery, the characters’ descriptions, etc. For short short stories, you really want to get to the meat quickly, which you do with the first scene, but then neglect in those that follow. It leaves no room for the ending, which feels rushed, when you could have gotten some deep character dynamics in.
Heather Rose vs. Proper Prim
Liked:
"Heidenröslein". I mean, there are other things to like about this, but that really stood out as a clever character point for not-your-character.Ugh, I'm dumb. D: But I did like that you focused on the German heritage parts of her character sheet.Disliked: The dialogue. Both characters are basically just saying, "Hey, here's my character sheet." I can buy Heather being chatty and open, but it's what they say, not how they say it, that's really hard to swallow.
Heather Rose's Author
For the same reasons as 6017311.
6017344 And by leaving it behind, you mean...?
Heather Rose's Author
Yeesh, what a landslide. Anywho, I really enjoyed A Proper Heath. I'd love to read an updated version with a less-rushed ending once this is all over.
As for the other one, it just seemed rushed. The characters and their interactions didn't feel nearly as natural.
Heather Rose's author
Not much else I can say that others haven't.
6017729
Seconding this. The story was probably the best one I have read so far. I am fairly certain they will end up being someone popular.
Heather Rose's Author
The story's flow was much more natural, and the characters were very well realized. I had to double check to make sure it wasn't actually Proper Prim's author—her character was that well done. My only quip is that the ending felt rushed and a bit abrupt.
Heather Rose's Author
Heather Rose's Author
The setting felt more organic, and the character interactions felt natural. However, it got kind of rushed in the end. Still, this was an entry that i'd like to see continued. It's also interesting that the author wrote Proper Prim better than his own OC (and this isn't the only story where that's the case, I might add).
Proper Prim's Author
The bar setting felt contrived, and it would have benefited from a good editing run. I kinda got the feeling that the ponies were doing a dry read off a script--like, everything was there that could make it a good story, but it didn't quite accomplish its goal.
Heather Rose's Author
Between the two stories, Rose's author did more things right. Her characterization of Proper Prim and Heather Rose were both stronger than the ones put forward by Prim's author. Rose's story also worked better since it switched perspectives to help give us a good idea of what each mare's mindset was; Prim's author only told it from Proper Prim's perspective, so she had to tell Rose's side of the story with a lot of exposition. This made the story feel less natural than Rose's.
Prim's story also suffered from the fact that the setting didn't feel as natural as Rose's story did. Rose told the story in both of the character's natural element: the theater and the heather fields. I give Prim credit for trying to set the story out of both of their normal stomping grounds, but since they weren't written as strongly as Rose's story wrote them, they mostly fell flat.
The main thing I liked about Rose's story was that it was slightly more subtle and had a more interesting story thrust. I always enjoy stories that have high stakes, even if those stakes are only high to one individual. For that, I'm voting for it this round.
Heather Rose's Author
Heather Rose's Author
Y'all know the rest.