Steam, Snow, Salt, Stamps - by Heather Rose's Author
Luster Lock looked up in minor annoyance as the bell over her door tinkled. She flipped her loupe up with a wingtip and winced as a blast of cold air whistled through the door.
An adolescent stallion wearing a knit cap and the navy vest of the Equestrian RPO stepped into her store and pushed the door shut behind him. She sighed and slid her current project—a cylindrical-key padlock—to the top of her workbench. She hadn't figured out how to pick it yet, but it was only a matter of time.
“Which door?”
He blinked in surprise. “Um, to the mailroom. From the platform. Stamps—“
“Lost the key,” Luster finished. “Again.” She slid her lockpicks into a roll pouch and tucked them under her wing. This time when I make a key, I'm going to make a spare. For me.
But she wouldn't. Not because it was against the rules: she knew as well as any mare that sometimes rules were made to be broken. Instead, she wouldn’t bother because the lock was laughably easy to pick.
“Let's go,” she ordered. She flipped the sign on the window and practically shoved him out the door, closing and locking it securely behind them.
One more leg, and the trip’s over. Coming home after Hearth’s Warming was always bittersweet for Heather Rose: she already missed her family, but she longed to be back home.
She shifted around on her bench and glanced up and down the coach. A few new ponies had boarded, but nopony she recognized. Up in front, a foal started squalling, and she pinned her ears back.To think, I thought he was cute when his mother brought him aboard.
His shrieks were answered by the howl of the locomotive's whistle. She felt the familiar jerk as the locomotive took the slack out, and then she felt the pulsing of the drive wheels as it tugged the train.
Heather's ears turned forward as the pulses became erratic; in a lull between the child’s wails, she heard the locomotive's usual chuff-chuff replaced with a chuff-wheeze. Then there was more banging as the railroad cars bumped to a stop.
The train was mocking her. It had only moved forward far enough to frame the HOOFINGTON sign with her window. She stuck her muzzle to the pane, then pressed her cheek sideways against the cold glass, trying to see down the length of the train. Did it come off the tracks?
There was nothing obvious, so she got out of her seat and went to the vestibule, squeezing between a pair of ponies who already had their heads out the window.
The train didn't look to have come off the rails—newspaper pictures of derailments invariably showed the railroad cars lying all cattywampus around the tracks. Her train’s were all upright and in their proper order.
As she watched, a soot-streaked mare climbed down from the locomotive and walked into the cloud of steam and smoke which constantly emanated from the front of the beast. When she re-emerged, head down, Heather Rose sighed. I guess I won't be meeting the girls at the spa tonight.
It was a short trip to the train station; when Luster got there she threaded through the cluster of last-minute passengers boarding the waiting train. A single trolley sat by the door in question, two full sacks of mail leaned up against the front bulkhead.
“Lucky we got the outgoing mail loaded before the key got lost,” the stallion commented. “Or else the train would have to wait.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” She walked up to the door and sat on her haunches just as Stamps rounded the corner, a lecherous grin on his face.
“I'm so glad you could make it. I loaned my key to one of the mail stallions, and he lost it, can you believe that? You just can't trust teenagers.” He moved so close she could have counted the hairs in his thinning brush-cut.
“I'll have it open in no time,” she muttered, opening her wing to drop her tool roll on the ground. At the conductor's call, she glanced back at the train. I'll have an audience for once—let's see if I can get this opened before the train leaves. With practiced familiarity, she slid the tension wrench and snake rake out of their pouches and set to work.
“I think they might have jammed it somehow,” Stamps offered as she twisted the tension wrench. Sure enough, the rake didn't move the tumblers at all. Luster Lock sighed, set the rake down, and grabbed a diamond pick, almost dropping it as the train’s whistle howled.
She scraped the pick through the lock several times, finally withdrawing it and examining the fine powder on the very end.
Luster sniffed it. Smelling nothing she stuck her tongue on the pick. Cold and totally tasteless—it was ice.
Her ears fell. Picking a lock was one thing; picking a frozen lock was impossible. Even if she'd had a key, it wouldn't unlock. She glanced over at Stamps, who was leering at her. Clever stallion.
“Can I get you anything?” he offered solicitously.
She was about to tell him off, when a hiss of escaping steam caught her ear. They both turned their heads, and immediately noticed the prodigious quantities of steam escaping from the exhaust valve on their side of the locomotive.
While Stamps gaped at it, Luster lock turned back to the door. How in Equestria am I going to melt this ice?
Heather Rose hesitated on the boarding step. Her luggage was safely tucked away in the baggage car, where it would be safe—but if for some reason she didn't get back before the train was repaired, it would leave without her, and who knew where her baggage might wind up?
One look at the crew gathering by the locomotive reassured her that this train would be going nowhere soon, and she hopped down to the platform, her thoughts already on how to spend the delay. Hearth's Warming softened her purse strings; not only for family and friends, but for herself as well. This year, nothing had caught her fancy, but she felt almost obligated to spend something, and this was the perfect opportunity.
She was halfway down the platform when she noticed a dim grey pegasus crouched next to a trolley and working on a door, while a balding stallion watched her intently.
It was none of her business, and she almost passed by, thinking about how a necklace would feel around her neck. Nothing fancy, a simple setting with a semi-precious stone, something practical she could wear whenever she got dressed up.
It was none of her business, but when the stallion slid slightly closer to the pegasus, kicking a slim blade across the platform, it bothered her, and she bent down and picked it up before moving over to return it to its rightful owner.
She wedged her way between the pair, directing an insincere “excuse me” at the stallion.
“You dropped thif,” she said, tilting her head towards the mare, and pushing the stallion a bit further back with her rump.
“Hey,” he muttered, and she turned her head to face him, not seeing the locksmith's wingtip come up and reach for the wayward tool. Heather wrinkled her nostrils as Luster's primaries tickled at the slender rake, and then both were gone as the locksmith turned back towards the door.
“Didja lose the key?”
“He did.” Luster tilted her head towards the stallion, who had the grace to blush slightly. “And then somehow, the lock got filled with water, and it froze.”
“Oh.” Heather looked at the platform—under the overhang of the station roof, there was barely more than a little snow-grit that the wind had blown around. She sidestepped, bumping the stallion again, then sat down beside the door. “So you need to melt the ice out of it. You could put salt in it.”
Luster flinched as if she'd been slapped. She let go of her tools and flexed her wings, while she took her first real look at her visitor. If her time touring with Trixie had taught her anything, it was how to read ponies. Flower cutie mark, windblown mane and tail, slightly shaggy winter coat, and scrapes and scuffs on her hooves no hooficure could ever remove—this was a farmer. She might as well have worn a sign about her neck.
“You could weed your garden by salting the ground, too.”
Now it was Heather Rose's turn to wince. “Okay, bad idea.” She tapped her hoof to her chin in thought.
Luster didn't reply, just went back to working a slender screwdriver against the pins. Half the battle was to get them to move, then it would just be a question of whether she could put enough force on the tension wrench to make the cylinder turn.
“If you could catch some of the steam from the locomotive and bring it over to the lock,” Heather mused out loud, “that would melt the ice.”
“Is there a steam hose at the station?” The pegasus looked up from her work, and glanced over at Stamps.
“I don't know,” he said honestly.
“Why don't you go look?” Heather offered. “Since you're not doing anything useful.”
He got reluctantly to his hooves and looked up and down the platform, as if one might materialize within eyeshot. When it didn’t, he trotted towards the locomotive and the cluster of mechanics gathered there.
“You don't have a bottle of light oil, do you?” Luster brushed a curl of steel-blue mane out of her face and jabbed the screwdriver back at the lock. She'd gotten the first two pins free, and was working on the third.
“What, in case I was planning on baking a batch of cookies on the train?”
“Sorry.” The locksmith pulled the screwdriver out and blew into the lock to dislodge the ice she'd chipped off.
“I could maybe get some from the engine oiler.”
“She’s only got heavy stuff. Too viscous, especially when it's cold.” She went back to work with the screwdriver, turning her body to get better leverage with her wing. “Alcohol?”
“In my trunk. Does the station sell it?”
“Nothing strong enough.” She sighed. “I've got a bottle back at my shop, but didn't bring it. Should’ve thought Stamps'd be clever enough to try something like this, just to keep me out here. where he could gawk at my pretty flank.”
“He's old enough to be your father.” Heather Rose scrunched her muzzle.
“Grandfather.”
“Ew.” Heather got back to her hooves, brushing the grit off her rump with her tail. “Think he'll find a steam hose?”
“If he does, it'll have a hole by the time it gets here, or the coupler will be broken.” Her ears fell. “Probably what's taking him so long. I'd like to have this lock open before he gets back.”
“What if . . . “ Heather moved close to the lock to examine it. “I could ask the attendant to get my trunk, maybe make a little funnel out of a piece of paper.” She looked back at the stationary train, and the baggage car coupled behind the tender. “It's a shame that there's a big iron boiler right there, but no way of getting the heat here, where it’s needed. Pegasi can't grab steam clouds, can they?”
“Not unless we want to burn our hooves.”
“What about a coal from the fire?”
“Again, the hoof-burning. You're welcome to try.”
“I bet there's a shovel in the locomotive.” Heather turned and trotted to the stationary locomotive, pulling herself halfway into the cab. Luster watched with interest, waiting to see what developed.
It only took a minute before the earth pony backed down off the steps, moving carefully on three hooves—when she turned, Luster saw that she now wore a thick hoof-mitt on her right foreleg.
She walked over to the door and unceremoniously jammed her mitted hoof against the lockplate. Instantly, a muffled hissing came from the lock.
Heather held it there until the small puffs of steam had totally subsided, then pulled back and let the ember drop to the station platform.
Luster kicked it out of the way with the toe of her hoof, then stuck the snake rake and tension wrench in the keyhole. A moment of practiced wiggling, and the lock surrendered with a final click. She pushed the door slightly ajar, just to make sure, then the two mares exchanged a high-hoof.
Just then Stamps huffed up to the duo. “I found a hose,” he said proudly.
“Took you long enough,” Luster sneered. “I got the lock open without it.”
“What? How?” He took a step forward, landing on the hot ember with a painful-sounding sizzle. His pupils shrank, and he started dancing on his hooves before galloping towards a snowbank.
Luster slid her tools back into her roll-pouch and slipped it back under her wing. “Now all I've got to do is make a new key, and I can do that back at my workshop.” She looked back at the door: the paint was slightly discolored around the keyplate, but it was otherwise undamaged. “Want to come with me? You might find something you’d like.”
• • •
“That's a lot of locks.”
“Can't be too careful.” Luster let the keyring fall on its lanyard and nosed the door open. The guttering lanterns inside barely illuminated the workshop, so Heather stayed back as Luster turned their wicks up.
It wasn't much of an improvement.
Nevertheless, Heather entered, closing the door tightly behind her. And just stared around the room.
She'd never seen so many locks in one place, although it stood to reason that being a locksmith's shop, it'd be full of locks.
She'd never seen so many different varieties, either. Various kinds of padlocks hung from pegs, nails pounded into the wall, and a short section of chain-link fence. Boxes stacked around the shop contained locks for doors and chests, if the drawings on the ends of the boxes were to be believed.
The whole shop smelled of metal and oil and meals eaten at the workbench. It was cluttered, confining—Heather couldn't imagine how a pegasus could stand it. Her house was cozy and neat, and had big windows that looked over her fields.
Back at the bench, Luster hunched over a key blank, carefully filing teeth into the key’s bit . She'd jotted down the pin-lengths while she worked, and the measurements were familiar enough that she barely needed to use calipers.
Satisfied with her work, she set down her tools, ruffled her primaries, and rolled her neck. Then she picked up the key, blew the shavings off it, buffed the raw edges with a cloth soaked in linseed oil, looped a length of ribbon through the bow, and draped it around her neck.
Luster spun on her stool and hopped to her hooves. She used a foxtail brush to sweep the bronze shavings into a bin, and then walked over to the earth pony.
Heather Rose was studying one of the love locks clipped to the chain-link. Luster rolled her eyes. “You don't want one of those. Nopony wants one of those.”
“Why not? I like the color.” She brushed it with her hoof. The pale magenta was a near match to her coat. “It's a love lock, isn't it?”
“How do you know about those?”
Heather blushed. “Um, I watched The Bridge of Love in Canterlot, and the pegasus soldier had one. He tossed the key down a well to show how unbreakable his love was.”
“Trust me, it's a lot less romantic when police ponies have bolt-cutters and lawyers.”
“But you could use it someplace where nopony would be bothered by it,” Heather insisted.
“You might find hoofcuffs more enjoyable. I have some for sale, if you or your coltfriend is an adventurous sort.”
Heather scuffed her hoof on the floor. “I don't actually have a special somepony.”
“Me, either,” Luster muttered. “Not for a lack of trying.” She thought back to her last dinner date—he was cute, but like so many others, he was gone too soon.
Heather Rose brightened. “But I still want the lock.”
“You don’t have to take pity on me.”
“I’m not.”
Luster looked into the guileless green eyes of the farmer and nodded. “Well, hope springs eternal.” She reached up and unlocked the heart-shaped padlock, handing it and the key to the earth pony. “Five bits—I'm giving you a deal, 'cause you figured out how to thaw the lock at the train station.”
It was more than Heather wanted to spend, but it was rude to make a deal and then back out, so she reached into her coinpurse and pulled out a six-bit coin, flinching back slightly as Luster again brushed her lips with a wingtip.
• • •
Heather Rose trudged through the deserted Ponyville streets, forcing her way through the drifts forming across the road. She didn’t mind so much; it was nice to be home, even if she wouldn’t get to see her friends until tomorrow.
She dropped her trunk on her front stoop, but instead of going into her house right away, she went around behind her house and looked over the gate. She stood on her hind hooves, leaning against the top of the rough-split wood, and just watched her field slumber under its blanket of snow.
After a few minutes of silent contemplation, she pulled the gate's latch back, and then used the love lock to fasten it permanently open.
The Facts of Ponyville - by Luster Lock's Author
Heather loved the feel of the comb—the knowledge that each tooth was slowly working her mane into neat, tidy rows of rosy hair, like flowers lined precisely in a field. Even if it wouldn’t stick for any longer than an hour or two.
“Und meine Mutter,” said Lotus, behind her, “sie hat diesen winzigen Hut getragen, und sie sagte, ‘Was ist los, Kinder? Zu groß?’” She tittered, nearly dropping the comb.
Heather giggled herself, but felt a pang of guilt, recalling her own mother. She’d have to send a letter soon. The farm had just been so hectic recently…
Lotus hummed and took away that blessed comb, and already Heather’s scalp missed it. “Fertig,” said the spa pony, coming around and offering Heather a hoof down from the table.
The delightful sound of hooves on tile spread out through the heavy air as the duo made their way to the front room. Lotus walked around to the back of the counter while Heather waited in front, coin purse in hoof and a smile on her face. This part was well rehearsed. As Lotus scribbled in a ledger, Heather measured out some bits and passed them over the counter.
“Danke schön, Röslein,” said Lotus, smiling brightly. “Come back soon, ja?”
Heather mirrored the smile. “Bitte,” she said, and she accepted the complimentary soap Lotus offered. “And I will. Give the others my best.” She started towards the door, calling back, “Tschüs!”
“Tschüs!”
Out the door, and the afternoon sun was shining bright. The warmth and cheer in the air of the (relatively) bustling thoroughfare sent a giggly shiver up Heather’s spine. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to drink in the little town she called home, and all of its perf—
She was on the ground now, a light twinge in her shoulder. She could feel the dirt worming its way into her not-so-groomed-anymore mane. Not two minutes. It must have been a new record.
Groaning, Heather opened her eyes to find a set of grayish hindquarters. That wasn’t the least common thing to see after getting knocked over in Ponyville, but… This other pony—while she was indeed a pegasus—had a lock for a mark rather than bubbles, and hair that was far from blonde.
The other pony turned, frowning, and offered Heather a hoof. “Sorry ’bout that,” she said, her voice boyish in manner if not in timbre.
Heather took the hoof and stood, saying, “Danke.”
“You’re”—the other pony raised an eyebrow—“‘wel-ke’?”
Heather shook her head. “You want ‘bitte’. Sorry, habits.” She took in the sight of the pegasus, from curly hair (unkempt, but clearly for longer than Heather’s own—it was practically encrusted with sweat), to over-the-shoulder knapsack, to dusty hooves. This pony was a traveller, and unless Heather had forgotten a face, new to town. “So,” said Heather, “what has you walking backwards down our little town’s main street?”
The other pony snorted. “What’s got you standing still on it?”
There’d been a bit of a sneering edge to that question, and Heather didn’t like it one bit. She couldn’t help but frown.
“Er.” The pegasus cringed. “Sorry. My business, is all—plus I had kind of a long trip. Luster Lock.” She offered her hoof once again, her knapsack balanced awkwardly now with nothing holding it.
Heather shook it, saying, “Heather Rose.”
Luster’s eyes widened, and suddenly Heather’s flank was the unwilling subject of a rather focused (and creepy) bout of peering. “You’re just what I need!” the mare shouted.
Looking all about, Heather grimaced at just how many of the town’s eyes had turned their way. She hissed through her teeth, “And you’re in public!”
But Luster had a grin that wouldn’t quit. “Your cutie mark,” she said. “Bunch of heather. What’s it mean? Flower farmer or something, right?”
Oh. A potential customer? “That’s it precisely,” said Heather, “minus how it symbolizes my—”
Luster waved a hoof. “Doesn’t matter. You’re perfect.”
“Perfect for what, exactly?” Heather was frowning too much today—it was market day, for goodness sake! But that might have been the big issue. She needed to go set up her stall and start making her bits, yet here she was, waylaid by a strange—
“I need info from somepony who’s really boring,” said Luster, still grinning. “Somepony who’s really small-town, really scared of big disasters—and, like, change in general, preferably.”
Heather felt her eye twitch, and she turned away. It was time go fetch her cart and her wares for the day.
“Hey!” Luster called after her. “Aw, come on! Do you at least know any other flower farmers, or some old-timey farriers, or anything? Ugh.”
After all those years, Heather’s stall still wasn’t popular enough.
Ponies didn’t realize (yet) just what they were getting when they bought themselves a batch of Heather’s Heath brand heather honey. Or heather honey in general, for that matter, but good luck finding any other brands around Ponyville.
Heather itself is a stubborn plant, only blooming naturally for a scant few weeks out of the year—the real sort, anyway—so heather honey has to be extracted from bees feasting on it during that brief window. As an earth pony, Heather could widen that window, coaxing the heather to bloom for upwards of about a month and a half, but any longer and the excess of magic needed would bother the bees—which themselves were on loan for that period, and not Heather’s to bother.
So heather honey is a rarity, so what? It’s just another kind of honey, right? Wrong. Aside from being darker and richer in flavor than most other honeys, heather honey is so packed with protein that it’s practically solid until you stir it. Add to that all of the carbohydrates, nutrients, antioxidants, und so weiter that you get from any honey, and heather honey is the good-tasting health food.
And Luster Lock, standing before Heather’s stall in the local market—with a full range of heather honeys, meads, beers, bread (Oma’s recipe), jams, jellies, and bare, tasty flowers laid out before her eyes—said, “Let me get a couple of those dried ones. They look tasty.”
The ‘dried ones’ were a decorative heather wreath, and she’d been perfectly earnest in her request, Heather was sure.
“Please go away,” said Heather, voice and face made painstakingly neutral.
Luster sighed. “I’m sorry for insulting you before.” She rubbed a wing—odd as that looked to Heather—through her still-dirty mane. “I really would appreciate your help.”
Luster’s eyes seemed so sincere, even if it looked like her mouth was about to creep into some kind of smirk. Plus, it wasn’t like there was a line forming behind her. “Fine,” Heather grumbled. “How can I help?”
“Like I mentioned before, I need info,” said Luster, lighting up and leaning on the stall’s counter. “Somepony as bor—” She froze as Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Ahem. Somepony like you, a small-town flower farmer, probably does her best to avoid big, awful disasters and such, right?”
“Right,” said Heather with brow raised. For all that she loved Ponyville most of the time, she did hate it whenever monsters attacked, or a local said heather was too bitter a plant, or ancient evils resurfaced in town. Did that really go hoof in hoof with her occupation…?
Luster continued, “And you’ve lived in Ponyville—a place pretty much infamous for exactly that kind of thing—for how long, now?”
“A little under five years.”
“Great!” Luster beamed. “I figure, that attitude and all that experience, you’ve got to have a disaster sense by now, right? When’s the next one coming?”
Friendly chattering and the rolling of cart wheels over cobblestone and the heated sounds of bartering filled the silence.
“What?” said Heather.
Luster didn’t falter. “When do you think Ponyville is due for trouble?”
“That’s the most ridiculous—” But it wasn’t, Heather realized as the word left her mouth. It wasn’t ridiculous at all. There was an equation forming in her head—or, no, not forming. It had been there, invisible, in the back of her mind.
Market days were her favorite days of the week, and this was true for most of the town’s many farmers. Likewise the weather, sunny and comfortably warm. But there was a balance to be maintained there: get some good, get some bad. Harmony. Though, there had been plenty enough bad today, in the form of the quirky pony with whom she was talking—her hair had even been ruined much sooner than the norm, she recalled.
But… No, there were two equations. Her personal unpleasant experiences today only balanced out personal enjoyments, like the—she now remembered—extra long and entertaining spa visit. The perfection of the day on a town-wide scale had yet to be checked by…
“Today,” Heather breathed. “Within twenty-four hours for sure. Oh, großartige Schwestern…”
“Today?” said Luster. She shot up from the counter. “Perfect!”
Heather watched as Luster set her knapsack down and used her wings to widen the drawstrings. From within, she pulled out a length of thin but remarkably sturdy-looking iron chain. And pulled. And pulled. She wound it around a foreleg and, after no more came out, she withdrew also an ornately carved—was that a dragon face?—and solid-seeming lock. She left it open, but with its clasp bridging the first link of the chain to the last and holding the whole heavy, menacing arrangement taut against her hoof.
And then… she started pulling out more chain, for her other foreleg. What an uncomfortable burden that knapsack must have been.
It was about when a second lock reared its vaguely leonine face that Heather summoned the presence of mind to ask, “What in Equestria are you doing?”
Lock in place, Luster danced a little jig, rattling the chains to her giggling satisfaction—and everypony else around’s sweat-beaded consternation—and looked back up to Heather. “Getting ready,” she said, grinning like predator, “to whup and or restrain and or sell some custom locks to the trouble.”
“So you came to Ponyville to throw yourself at disasters…?” At Luster’s nod, Heather could only shake her head. “‘Du spinnst,’ my Oma would say. You’re going to fit right in, I’m sure.”
As misfortune would have it, there came a sudden roar from the other side of town, and the local birds loudly flapped and cawed their way off. Heather’s mind froze even as her body kicked into practiced action, frantically beginning to pack up her wares along with all of the saner stall owners around the market.
Luster’s grin had magnified tenfold, but Heather saw her make a concerted effort of reining it back into a quivering smile-smirk. The pegasus drew some bits out from her somehow-still-not-empty knapsack, tossed them onto the stall counter, and grabbed a bottle of heather mead with a wing. She popped the cork and took a good many swigs.
“Ahh,” sighed Luster, slamming the bottle back down onto the counter like she was cool instead of just hurting the wood. “My compliments to the brewer.”
“Danke,” said Heather with an absent mind.
Luster turned her smirk back to Heather, saying, “You’re bitte.”
Heather winced, rolled her eyes, and just barely managed to correct Luster and pack away her things before the stomping said that it was time to be anywhere else.
The town of Ponyville’s collective palate still somehow managed to overlook the strikingly crisp flavor of a fine heather ale, with its notes of floral, even vaguely sweet—
Oh, who even cared? The Thirsty Draft had it on tap, and that was all that really mattered right then.
Of course, it was Heather’s Heath brand heather ale, but The Thirsty Draft was the most wonderful sort of pub that Heather could imagine; they charged a local supplier only slightly more than what they paid that supplier in the first place for the same amount of stock. For coppers on the bit, Heather got to drink her ale at a better temperature and out of a nicer glass than what she could manage at home, and the atmosphere—warm and loud and littered with ponies, but rarely any of it to an unpleasant degree—came free.
And so of course the only open seat at the bar was next to a battered but radiant Luster Lock. After all, it had already been such a train wreck of a—no, such an average, balanced day—that Ponyville couldn’t let it be over just yet.
“Did you win?” said Heather as she sat. The bartender, without even needing to meet her eyes, had already laid down a frothing glass for her. Almost everything was right with the world.
Luster turned Heather’s way and smiled, and she served up a light punch of recognition to an already aching shoulder. “Not really,” she said. “No lock sales today. And he sure was better at doling out a whupping.” Her smile went a little soft. “Had fun, though.”
Heather giggled lightly, and she asked, “What was the other thing you were going to try? ‘Restraining the trouble’?”
Grayish wings rose up in some kind of gesture—a shrug, maybe? “Opening locks is more my thing, I guess,” said Luster, smile back to its earlier… luster.
There Heather went giggling again, even if there wasn't much call for it—but she realized it was the first time she’d laughed since leaving the spa, and it felt good. Though, she supposed it was hard not to be happy when half a glass of ale had made its way down her throat while Luster had been talking. And no sense in leaving the other half waiting.
Luster whistled. “You sure can put it away, huh?” She held up her own glass, eyeing what was left. “And I guess I can kind of see why.”
What did—Oh! That hazy gold color, and that earthy nose! “You’re drinking my beer?”
Luster nodded, taking another pull.
“Oh, danke schön, Luster! Ponies here rarely even give it a chance.” Heather raised her own glass high—full again, that wonderful bartender. “How does it taste?”
Emptying the glass and setting it down, Luster shot Heather one final, all-enraging smirk. With a tone of the utmost self-satisfaction, she uttered, “Bitter.”
There were times, however rare, when The Thirsty Draft did get to be too hot and loud for Heather’s liking. During the occasional good-natured bar fight, for instance.
Heather Rose Author
I liked that it built on aspects of the character provided in the previous round. That was very good. It also held my interest in the face of Steam Summer Sale, which is no mean feat.
Heather Rose's Author
Oh man, I got hit by a wave of depression when I read this entry and realized it was only the first one. Round Two is going to be tough! I kept looking for things to nitpick in Heather's story, thinking this one would come down to the wire. Both authors did well in the first round, after all. But by the end of the second story, my mind was made up. Sorry, Luster.
Don't get me wrong, both authors did a great job. I actually had the authors mixed up until halfway through the second story because they each did such a good job with the other's OC. Both of them did research for their opponent's character, which is fantastic. Luster Lock's author had a great Heather Rose, and Heather Rose's author had a great Luster Lock. Funny how that works sometimes.
What won this for me was the writing and plotting. Heather Rose's story felt professional, moving the characters and the story forward organically and overall made more sense. Luster's was good, but there were a couple things that happened that felt more implied than shown, like whatever Luster was planning with whatever was causing the disaster, or just what happened at the end there. (Did Heather not like her beer being called bitter? Did she start a bar fight? I'm really not sure.)
Heather's story had more little things that impressed me, like this line:
The setup for it was admittedly a little "eh" (words like "pretentious" and "Mary-Sue-esque" come to mind, but I would never actually write those down), but the way Luster uses her little insight is just downright clever. You would never see a joke like this in amateur work, it's too subtle.
Of course, Luster's story had its moments, too:
That made me laugh. The story didn't keep me laughing, though. It was an interesting premise (though I'm not sure if it fit Luster very well. Is this really the same author that wrote that amazingly flirty piece from Round 1?), but the execution didn't really commit to humor, and didn't have enough of anything else to balance that.
But everyone wants feedback, so here's some criticism for Heather's Author. I felt like Heather herself could've gotten more attention in her own fic. The only real character-defining moment was the open gate thing at the end, but it didn't tell us much about her on its own. I think this was kind of a problem in the first round (honestly, I just don't remember which entry was which author), but I think that's just because Heather Rose is just that sort of character. It takes very careful writing to really bring her out and make the most of her.
Heather Rose Author Vote
A shame (no offense, Heather Rose's author), I was hoping that Luster Lock's story would be just as great as the first one, because I prefer her. Unfortunately, it was just pretty good, so my vote goes to Heather Rose.
Nitpicking the first story, I'd say the scenario is a little odd, but the author takes it and runs with it. Awesome.
For the second, Luster seemed a little different in characterization from the first story. Still enjoyable, but I think I enjoyed her more in the first round.
Strong efforts on both sides, which is awesome to see in round two.
Luster Lock's Author
I'm going to shoot for being a bit more detailed this round, I think. I've got the time for it now and there's only half the entries, after all.
Both were kind of contrived in how they got the two ponies interacting, but not egregiously so (and it tickled me how both authors described their own character physically through their opponent's character's eyes in a very similar sort of way, right after, i.e. "Detail X, detail Y, detail Z. This was a [type of pony]."). Both had a similar sort of feel to me, though Luster's author's seemed to lean a little more towards comedy. Both also felt kind of similar in terms of writing style, too, though they differed in their style of narration. And I enjoyed both decently well.
Some key differences have me giving Luster the leg up, though:
1.) In terms of those differences in narration, I'll first say that both felt a tad non-standard to me, with Heather's author cutting between characters' perspectives from scene to scene and then paragraph to paragraph, and Luster's author so firmly entrenching the narration in one character's perspective that it might as well have been in first person, but wasn't. Of the two, I found the latter to be more successful, if only because the former had an instance or two where the perspectives seemed to get a little muddled mid-paragraph or mid-sentence, and it tripped me up.
2.) The editing. Luster's author's entry had some spots that bothered me, but Heather's author's entry had that plus more hard errors.
3.) The two stories had very different attitudes towards what was presented of their opponent's character (and maybe, to a lesser extent, their own) in the previous round. The Heather in Luster's author's entry felt markedly different from the Heather that Heather's author showed us last round—the most readily namable thing probably being all the German and her habit of mixing it into English speech, which had enough context and impact on the story that I liked it—while the Luster in Heather's author's entry seemed to be shooting for as much accuracy with Luster's Luster of last round as possible. I feel like I could like either approach, but the Luster in Heather's entry was so close in some ways that it felt like retreading ground that didn't need to be retread—the extreme example being that the line of dialogue about the bolt cutters and lawyers pretty much felt lifted.
4.) In terms of how they used their own characters as opposed to the previous round, I might say that both kind of seemed to be relying on what they'd already covered in the first round entries, sort of. By which I mean that the author's own character was the less explored of the two, in both entries. The difference here, though, is that it felt more purposeful to me in the Luster entry—like it was a function of the narration being entirely from Heather's point of view, or like Luster was supposed to come off mysterious and/or strange to Heather and the audience. In the Heather entry, though, it just felt to me like the things that Heather was about didn't get a focus because they didn't matter to the bulk of that story—it was kind of restricted to short segments before and after she and Luster were actually interacting, for the most part. And on that note…
5.) The plots themselves. The one in Heather's author's entry interested me well enough towards the start, but I got a bit bored as it went along and just became that back and forth and shooting-down of ideas for a while (especially when one idea got shot down early because Heather's trunk was on the train, and then a later idea proposed that the trunk go be gotten for a different purpose but was shot down for a different reason). The plot of Luster's author's entry felt strange in that it was like the Luster bits were just missing, kind of, but overall, I was more invested in it as it went along.
Back to speaking in general, I'll say that I thought both entries were good about not contradicting the sheets (mostly, but I'll refrain from giving my specific complaints because they're pretty minor), and the characterization overall was fine, but not mind-blowing. I'd be down with either author moving forward—I wasn't disappointed by either entry, and I hope desperately that I can say the same about most every pair in this round.
HEATHER ROSE’S AUTHOR
Steam, Snow, Salt, Stamps
Liked: Cattywampus, the bit about the necklace, and the six-bit coin. This was a genuinely pleasant read, and keen details like those really helped.
Disliked: POV shifting when they’re both together.
The Facts of Ponyville
Liked: Germaaaan! :D And I’m so glad you didn't translate any of it.
Disliked: The asides were lengthy and a little overbearing, even if they add to the setting.
Heather Rose's author
I liked the integration of the German and the lighter tone in Luster Lock's entry, but I have to subtract points for the vagueness of Lock's plan, which I didn't quite understand, as well as her... shall we say, inconsistent portrayal compared to the last round. Heather Rose's story I thought brought together the characters in an interesting way and presented an equally interesting scenario to get them to spend time together. I don't have any major complaints with Rose's entry, so while the problems with Luster Lock's entry were really minor, and I like both stories, I do think that Heather Rose's was technically superior.
Heather Rose's Author
Though I'll freely admit Luster Lock's author's German was impeccable.
Heather Rose's Author
While I do enjoy the diversity that comes with a world this huge, I also enjoy being able to understand what I'm reading. Add to that the fact that Heather Rose's Author's entry wound up with both parties satisfied at the end, always a plus for me.
Luster Lock's author
Evidently it didn't seem to be much of a problem for others, but I kept getting lost in Heather's piece--and not in the good way. I wasn't ever quite sure entirely what or why things were happening the way they did, and it seemed like a pretty contrived way for them to meet.
Luster's, on the other hand, I found funny and cute. Honestly, I really loved it.
That being said...
I see what you did there, Heather Rose's author.
Luster Lock's Author
Her opponent just didn't really mesh well with my tastes.
Luster Lock's Author
BUT THE ONLY reason I'm voting this way is that I enjoyed the comedy aspects of Luster Lock's Author's story. Otherwise, I have to say that both stories worked well me me, both had issues, and that if it wasn't for my completely emotional response to the slapstick and very effective use of German and Beer!
Heather Rose's author
This is a tough decision as both pieces have their strengths and weaknesses. Overall, Heather Rose's entry felt like the more focused and coherent of the two stories, so I'll lean that way with my vote.
Heather Rose's Author
Both stories were so good! I'm really not even sure how Heather's author gained the edge in my mind—their story felt a tad more plausible, I guess. I'd honestly be happy to see either author progress to the next round, though, if this is the quality they bring to the game. Kudos!
Luster Lock Author
Okay, so first an apology for both authors. I was honestly trying to do more in my voting than I am doing right now, but RL interfered with all my available time this weekend. I've been only able to pretty much read, and not vote and sometimes do random comments. But, yeah.
Anyway.
So for this one, I feel like Heather's author spent too much time concentrating on Luster, in her own story. Don't get me wrong though, I really enjoyed the story and I feel it could go on longer and still be enjoyable, however it didn't show much of either character that we didn't know already, where Luster's author incorporated the German (or should it be Germane?) cultural cues, and I loved that we saw Heather's varied products made all from the same flower, as well as the play on her living in
Area 51Ponyville and having some sort of Pony-sense for monster attacks. Plus brawl.Luster Lock's author
Damn, did I just vote against Heather Rose in a close race?
I'm getting to this one behind the heavy hitters so I'm gonna cop out and say "what they said." The use of German was slick as hell, plus the fact that Heather's opponent took some risks with her.
Heather Rose's Author
Heather Rose's Author
A pretty solid entry, but it felt like it drifted off-course in the middle, only to come back at the end. Not sure why they couldn't have exhausted the alcohol first, rather than just keep on talking about it. For all that, a nice, solid SoL.
Luster Lock's Author
While some people liked the German, I thought it was overdone. Right in the second paragraph, I don't know what's being said. It worked better later, when it was just a word here and there. It also kind of nagged at me that it felt like you switched styles . . . like, I thought going in that it was going to be another slice of life, but then it turned into a comedy, I think.
EDIT: In light of some recent discussions, I should mention that I am not opposed to using a foreign language in a story (or, for that matter, technical terms)--I do it a lot myself, and thus am more sensitive to its use than some other people are. Specifically, my only complaint is the second paragraph--since you provided no translation, nor any hints as to what was said, I can only assume it isn't important to the story, and if so, why is it there? Upon re-reading, though, it does provide a nice hint as to why Heather might have used German on Luster Lock at first--her mind might have still been in German mode.
Luster Lock's Author
Honestly, while neither story was bad, by any means, neither was excessively good.
Luster Lock's Author
This was a really, really tough decision. Ultimately, it really boiled down to which one I enjoyed more, but I'll be happy for either author to advance.
Luster Lock's Author
This was a really close one. Both authors did well, but I enjoyed the interaction between the characters a little more in the second story.
Heather Rose’s Author
As so many have said, this was close. In general, I like Luster Lock as a character better--even enjoyed her Round 1 far more than Heather Rose’s. But, Luster’s author, you just had too many annoying style choices for me overall. But what really cinched it was the fact that Luster sounded just like Rainbow Dash! Seriously, the voice just got stronger and stronger as it went through. While I felt you had a stronger set up--although Heather’s author had better interactions, which gave it a lot of weight--I just didn’t hear your character anymore, unlike the first round. A real shame.
As for the style issues? That casual narration at the beginning of the second and third parts. Really felt out of place, considering how the story started in general. I think that was a real poor choice. I didn’t mind the vagueness around Luster’s plan and the outcome; I’m more than familiar enough with the show that those details aren’t really necessary. We know what it was probably like.
As for the German, I’m yet another one applauding it. I read the comments beforehand and worried, but you handled it well. For those who missed it: The author utilized longer lines of German early on, in situations where you don’t need to know what is being said (although it only takes a rudimentary knowledge level to understand them). And then the handful of smatterings here or there, which added to the character without being pretentious.
Another style choice for you Luster that I disliked: your sentences were often too long and clunky. I applaud the em dash, but you didn’t always use it effectively. And that many parenthetical statements? Not a good choice.
Heather’s author: While I overall enjoyed the interactions of your characters more, the setup was a bit bland and iffy, and the ending just a little too flat. But I did like what I felt you were going for.
All in all, a couple of very close entries.
6086619
If you can, PM me with the editing errors/hard errors. I only found two editing errors, and I'd like to know if there's something I'm missing that I need to look for in the future.
6100469
Sure thing. I may not catch it all, mind—I tend to be worse at not overlooking things any time after the first go-through of a story.
6100606
Really, anything will be helpful. Sometimes it's hard to find a reader who's properly critical, y'know?
6097274
Aw, I was expecting you to mention the smirking again—I had the word in there a good three or four times (which just sort of happened as I went). I had a response prepared, all "An extra helping of 'smirk' just for you, Admiral" and "Those that don't eat their 'smirk' don't get any 'elicit' and 'mellifluous'!" Ah well. And as much as I don't really get the complaint, I'm sorry the German seemed to bother you and so many others so much. Any parts that mattered, I thought I gave enough context clues to, but maybe not.
Best of luck to Heather Rose's author. Your entry entertained me enough that I could certainly understand your moving forward, and your character was surprisingly fun to write, to boot.
Heather Rose's Author
Both were very well-crafted, but I think I have to give it to the former story. The deciding factor, for me, is that there was a lot of vagueness in the latter, some good (I appreciate that the German was left untranslated) and some bad (Luster Lock's whole motivation and drive for coming to Ponyville), which left it feeling somewhat less whole than the former. Again, this was an extremely close call, but I have to give it to former story.
vote: Heather Rose's author
6103154
It doesn't bother me how you used it. It's just when I see a line like "it's your turn," Rainbow smirked I get annoyed. Dunno why that's so, maybe because it feels overused to me? It's not the kind of thing I'd ever pan a story for (unless that was every line of dialogue). Heck, some people don't like the word 'moist,'
I think it was the first part (and I have edited my earlier comment to reflect that)--when i first read that line, my thought was "if he didn't provide some clue as to what was said, this isn't important to the story, but if it isn't important to the story, why is it here?" Later on, it gave me no issues at all, and I did like Luster saying "you're wel-ke?"
Probably the reason it stuck out to me is that I've used foreign languages in lots of stories, and thus have gotten lots of feedback on what works and what doesn't from my readers, so now it's something which kind of perks my ears up when I see it, y'know? And I should mention that everybody who's familiar with German (I'm not, so I'll take their word for it) says you got it right, and that's something I can't claim.
6108604
If I ever do use an action as a dialogue tag, you've got my express permission to smack me, no matter the verb I go with.
And though I hate to be the one arguing my own case…
I'll just post the pertinent segment of the story (even if I know you've looked it over again already):
I did hint at what was said, at least to the extent that Lotus was talking about her mother, and that it was something worth laughing about. The point of the segment is wider than that, though: I wanted to establish that Heather understands and likely speaks German, that she and Lotus are likely friends or at least good acquaintances, that Heather is laughing (called back to in the final scene), that she lives apart from her mother, that she owns or at least operates a farm, that she works hard, yada yada yada. For the first to be established, Lotus had to be speaking at least a full sentence of German (and it didn't much matter what apart from that it be something funny about her mother), and that led naturally into all the rest. Parts of it mattered, and those parts were what I followed up on, plus it mattered that it was more than a couple words of German. Get me?
Luster Lock's Author
Honestly, both of these stories were alright. But I felt like Luster's story had more characterization in it, as well as had a more interesting story in general (sorry, but unfreezing a door lock is a pretty monotonous setup to me). I also liked how Luster Lock spent a good chunk of the time doing character interaction that felt more unique and interesting, whereas Heather Rose's took a long time to set up the interaction, but then just sort of delivered it kind of flatly. I also really didn't like how grumpy Luster seemed to be in Heather's story, as well as that Heather herself didn't really leave that much of an impression on me. Given how divisive this pairing seems to be, I'm sure there's more that could be said about it; but going from my initial instincts, I have to go with Luster for this round.
Luster Lock's Author
This one was really close for me. Ultimately, the difference came down to editing. Heather Rose's author made quite a few hard mistakes, as BP mentioned, and in a close choice, that was the deal-breaker.
6112824
Can you PM me with what you found? I'd appreciate it
Luster Lock's Author
Casting the tiebreaker vote here. I actually really like the German here, drawing on Heather's Germane heritage to flesh out what's otherwise kind of an Average Joe character. I wish it could have done a little bit better with explaining the actual German text in-narrative, because there were bits where I had to stumble and pause trying to figure out what the English translation might be from the context. It's not quite intuitive, so a little extra effort to smooth the translation process from the author might have been nice.
I'm a little surprised that both authors' entries actually wound up placing more of the focus on the other author's OC. I do think Heather Rose's Author's entry suffers slightly more from "Everyman OC" problems, where Heather's role in the plot could have been filled by functionally any average pony. Luster Lock's Author seems to do a bit better about it (oddly enough, given that Heather's average, everyman-type persona is a plot point) by focusing on what unique aspects Heather does have to her, like the Germane heritage and her knowledge about her business. I especially liked the bit where Luster cuts off her explanation of the cutie mark's symbolism.
I think I slightly prefer the more plot-focused idea behind Heather Rose's entry, but "thawing a lock" feels rather mundane as an issue, and I can't help but feel like there could have been something more exciting to make out of it. I'm similarly a little lukewarm on Luster's entry, for the vagueness of Luster's plan, but I think I have to give Luster Lock the edge here for the reasons mentioned above.