Plotting: Charting the Stars

[TenthSpeedWriter]

So... I decided to scrap the piece I was working on before. I found that it's a lot more difficult than I expected to create an out-of-genre piece (especially gothic suspense) focusing only on one character and still expect to transition from the canon tone fluidly.

THAT SAID. I have another idea, and this one actually seems feasible.

Below, I'm posting a working opening segment. At the moment, it functions only as a character introduction for the chief OC and the context of the story, but right now, that's all I really need from it. What I need from y'all, are suggestions for possible elements of tension and drama using the introduced character and the fanon-accepted personality of the characters introduced to this point, with the ultimate goal of creating a situation seen by the chief protagonist as lonely and personally crushing. (Ain't I terrible?)

Shoot me with any suggestions you have, as well as any stylistic critique you might want to chip in.

[TenthSpeedWriter]

Midday crawled atop Ponyville, quiet as a mouse and as hot as you please. Summer was here with a vengeance, and in spite of the heat, the earth ponies that tended the many farms near the town were out to work with shoulders back and spirits high. Among them this day, out on the skirts of Sweet Apple Acres, there stood a light-haired young stallion, turned beet red with sunburn, his gray eye glued to a surveyor's transit and wye.

Next to him sat a covered wagon, its wheels now settled into the dry dirt, with a sign slung over its canvas roof:

CHARTER'S CHARTS

Land Measured,

Deeds Written,

Maps Made!

Spread out before its proprietor was the object of his attention: a strip of lonely soil, baking in the sun, that would next year be home to yet another orchard of young apple trees. On a folding table beside him, there sat a stack of grid-lined pages upon which Charter had begun to record the intimate details of the place, and which he now leisurely refined.

"Let's see… thirty seven by nineteen, you are…" -- He leaned even closer into the instruments -- "… down elevation by a quarter, so… six and a half hands."

"Beautiful." In a mess of numbers, another detail -- the gentle hillside which kneeled down to the neighboring farm -- took on further shape amid his notes. He had paused to admire the little achievement when a surprise tap on the shoulder snapped him back to attention.

Standing there with a smirk was the the pony who had hired him for this job. Applejack, he believed her name was.

"Heh, didn't startle ya, did I?" She tipped her hat and pointed him down to a bucket from the well back near the homestead. "I came t' see how you were comin' along out here, and I figured you'd pro'lly be bakin', hot as it is today."

"Why, I'm grateful, ma'am!" He jokingly saluted her.

"Haw, now, don' start with that "ma'am" nonsense. You're makin' me feel old." In truth, she couldn't be more than a year or so older than he was, but it seemed right to him to be as respectful as he could to the pony paying for his work, however casual the case may be.

"Yes, ma'am! I mean… aw, forget it. Ah… here's what I've gotten finished today."

Charter passed his freshly drawn handiwork to his courteous contractee and all but threw himself into the water. The summer sun was not a gentle friend to anypony, and the coolness in his burnt brow was the first ounce of relief he'd had in a while.

"Looks like y'all 'bout got it under hoof…" she said, trying to make sense of the mass of figures and contour lines. "Think we've got room for as big an orchard as we're wantin'?"

Charter surfaced with a splash and gulped down one last mouthful. As he threw his head back, a little silver locket around his neck slid around and stuck itself in his damp mane. "Easily seems so. Maybe even for a few patches of hay. The ground isn't too soft, so it'll be a bit of effort to till, but…" he fumbled around for a second, trying to straighten the bit of jewelry, "it seems like… with a little elbow grease… ah-ha!" Catching a coffee-yellowed tooth on the brass chain, he tugged it back into place. "You should have plenty enough room, and the soil beneath is as rich as can be."

"Well, that's some fine news," she answered, "'cause if there's one thing we ain't short of 'round here at least, it's effort!" Applejack gestured back towards her brother, just down the hill. Big Macintosh hauled a heaping cartful of fertilizer as easily as a load of laundry, while young Applebloom did her best to keep pace behind him with a wagon full of tools. Past them, in the shade of the homestead, worked Granny Smith. She swung her old hooves down on a coring press with surprising vigor, slicing apart the spring crop while her hired hoof Caramel stoked a fire outside to boil her preserve jars clean.

Charter had to admire them. Ponies around here had a simple love of life, be it at work or play, that was hard to find elsewhere. He recalled his days of schooling in Canterlot, studying math and geography and the stars, with all the stuck-up unicorns and dusty professors who looked like they'd never had a touch of mud on their hooves; truth be told, he'd felt more in common with the old goats tending the gardens than any of them. Mom and Dad had always wanted him to take up medicine, or astronomy, or something else that came with a cushy office and some kind of tenure, but Charter never felt right being tucked away like that; his passion was in places like this, feeling the contour of the world and making something as substantial as the shape of the land itself.

After finishing school, he had worked for a while in the big cities: Fillydelphia, Manehatten… sure, the business was good there, and there was certainly never any reason to be bored, but everypony was always running late for something, never taking time to enjoy life for what it was. His time there went from exciting to tiring in the shake of a tail. Worse than that though, the lights always hid the evening sky, and Charter terribly missed sitting under the full moon and sketching the constellations that gazed back at him from above.

So it was that, after a bit of traveling and hunting for work, he found himself here in Ponyville. There was something about the town that seemed to fit him like a well-hammered shoe; he found a genuine community here, and no pony seemed to think they were above doing their fair share of work or play. Although he did miss the great study halls of Canterlot and the fabulous museums of the city, the little library here in town had more than enough books of every sort to both keep him entertained and continue his studies; and then, there was that sweet young mare who tended it. She had studied in Canterlot as well she told him, and since his arrival, Charter had gotten lost with her in many conversations about the magic of the stars and the mysteries of mathematics, much to their mutual pleasure; and, truth be told, he admired her for some time, at least until he met… well…

With half a smile, he kissed the clasp of his necklace and straightened it again.

Applejack surveyed her family's little operation one more time, a bit of pride gleaming in her eye. "Yessir-ee, we're gonna be doin' just fine come next plantin' season." She turned back to Charter, and saw him still piddling with the little silver heart.

"Say… that's a right pretty little pendent you have there. Got yerself a sweetie, do ya?"

Charter's already burnt-red face flushed further -- it was a little strange to him that his employer would wonder about such a thing -- but he nodded. "Heh… that I do." He tapped the latch on its side, and opened it up to show a photo of himself and another pony: a teal-haired filly with a cutie mark in the shape of an old fashioned lyre. They were flopped atop one another on the ground, and grinned like schoolfoals on class picture day. "She certainly is something else, let me tell you."

Applejack lifted it up to look closer, and then turned back to him with a grin. "So, you're the fella that Miss Lyra's been so keen on, are ya?" Charter mustered a slight smile and replied, "Yeah, I… I suppose I am. Does she, er… does she talk about me much?"

"You're only every other thing out of her mouth, sugarcube. Matter of fact, I think I heard her and that curly-maned friend o' hers carryin' on about ya at the waterin' hole up back up the road a lil' while ago. You ought to go see if they're still around!"

"Really? You don't mind me taking off early?" A more earnest smile broke from Charter's face, nearly as wide and as goofy as the one in the picture. "Shucks, naw. I'll gather up your tools and bits; y'all go have yourselves a nice afternoon, y'hear?" Applejack patted him on the shoulder, and he took off in a high-stepping amble towards town.