Wayfarer

by The Plebeian

L

Only two elements mark this place at all familiar, but it is nonetheless a revisiting. It is a circular room, with a bed set on two sides, one made with a torn-off blue curtain, and one holding the wayfarers’ bags. The room is lined with a faded brown wallpaper of sylvan designs and curls. There is a single window in the room, and a small hatch on the floor, though it remains shut and secure. A few shelves are set up along the walls, faded, but not nearly as faded as the paper, or the single remaining curtain that drifts inwards with the first light breezes of spring. The artist’s bag lies open, and its contents are spilled over the floor, grand scenes of Canterlot palace at night, a beautiful scene of reflections and reality in Baltimare, a portrait of two in similar color, a dreary factory left alone to fade, a memorial captured in its own time, a familiar aged spire, its tattered curtain drifting outwards, and a scene of the earth. The wayfarer sits at a desk, an impressive stack of canvas paper at his side, and one sheet directly before him, the look of inspiration keen in his eyes.

He has never quite been an artist. He can never mimic her finesse, he thinks, just as she can never quite mimic his own fervor for the journey. However, she found her own version of it, her own way of his joy. She is with him now, and he can tell, he has surprised her, for a torrent – of love now – washes over him as he begins his work. She has painted their journey, and now it is his turn. She helps him through the gaps of his memory, assuring him that such is a part of all the art, the spaces that are left to be filled. As she guides him, a broad smile stretches over his face. It is just like any new journey, the first few steps weak and uncertain.

It is a wonderful apology, to set right a wrong. It is his best effort, and he knows that by the time they finish, he will hold in his hands a masterpiece, a journey embodied. He wills himself to find the first strokes, though he feels already he is not meant for the grand scenes. He has not her finesse with a brush. It is a difficult start, but she still urges him on, as he has once.

It is more difficult than he can imagine, to try and capture a moment in its essence. There is so much he yet does not know, so much he cannot quite remember. She continues her calm, gentle pushes, and slowly, the ideas begin to form in him. The wayfarer, indeed cannot draw. Several drafts are started and discarded in his mind alone. It takes practice, she assures. He will become better.

But that is not what he sees in his mind. That is her way of painting a scene. She combines colors, mixes tones and shades, and sets up an easel. Here, he sits at a desk. He is not a painter, but he is still an artist, just as much as she is a wayfarer. He feels his way through, the new, greater idea taking shape in his mind, and her quiet whispers cease, and she watches as inspiration takes over. He has stood well enough alone, but this is his apology. This is his art, and that is all she wishes to see. The idea takes grand shapes, bends a bit, as he plays with it. It takes a while to take its true form, but as it skips through his mind, he sees that it is, of all, the most beautiful thing he has done, for they have made it. He has experienced many things, partaken in many scenes, but never have they made them. Never have they truly made anything. He lets his inspiration run wild, and as idea after idea swirls through his mind, he is once more calm, able.

In the wayfarer’s mouth is not a brush, nor a palette. It is a pen. On the desk sits an inkwell. His mouth still remains caught in a smile, and in his apology, in her forgiveness, the two are found whole again. He has heard, once, that a picture is worth a thousand words. It is a beautiful phrase to him because the wayfarer knows words well. He needs not color nor brush. He has every color in the black ink, every impression found as pen finds the canvas paper. He knows each scene as he knows himself, as he knows her. He has his depictions ready, gathered together in his mind. Hers are there too, in his own medium. It is a new art, and as she gazes down upon him, she is once more surprised, for in his eyes are found yet another discovery; certainly not the last.

Outside, the sun begins to set, and warm rays light the curtain aflame. They come from behind the wayfarer, and light the feather as well, burning as if captured in the moment of a phoenix’s last flame. It falls on the canvas, and the last rays of an unfeeling sun prepare to fade. There is a peace, and the scene is captured just as he has paused the first bit of his writing. It is a simple message, for both her and the others. It warms her heart, for him to write it so well. It is not nearly a perfect work he sets out to make; that is exactly what makes her heart leap.

On the canvas is found a new beginning, written in the black of their manes. It is a simple introduction, not even a sentence, that brings them finally together. At the top of the blank sheet is written in an artistic scrawling script, “This time, your way, love, that neither of us should stand alone . . .”

Comments

[Hivemind]

*Finds the similarities in favor and likeness of exemplary poetic/descriptive styles of writing catering to those with vivid imaginations almost unexpectedly. Proceeds to favorite, grace with an upvote of merit, and moves to keep and refer to the story again later on for both encouragement and inspiration.*

Well done, good sir.

-Hivemind

[MythrilMoth]

Your description is a vague, pretentious koan which says absolutely nothing about your story, and is the very definition of how not to write a story description.

[The Plebeian]

3581721
I am sorry you are displeased with my description, but to say much more actually hurts the medium of the piece. It is a story of discoveries, and least of all do I want to tell the reader what discoveries lie ahead, rather than let them experience the discoveries themselves.
You are correct. The description is insufficient. I merely plead that it is sufficiently insufficient.

[SilentBelle]

3581721 Indeed, this story does address that very issue. And that's part of the draw. Some people, such as myself, are intrigued by such a description. There is a certain beauty to be found in vagueness, and a certain ironic appreciation of it going unnoticed. For if too many were to praise it, the beauty would be gone.

It might take a bit more energy to actually read this story because it is so vivid and thick in its prose. But there is much to be discovered here, and what is to be discovered will ultimately vary from viewer to viewer. Which is why I do believe that the description is quite apt.

[The Plebeian]

3588600
Thanks, fixed it!

[SilentBelle]

Okay, I finished the story, and damn, it was great. This is a work of art and is going to sit in my top recommended stories for all time I think. Thank you so much for writing this. It was nothing short of a grand adventure and experience, and I know I will never ever forget it. Now, I have a blog to finish

[The Plebeian]

A thousand thanks, Silent, both for the edits and the acclaim. I'm glad you found it meaningful.

[ChromeMyriad]

Hello, good sir, this is ChromeMyriad here with your review courtesy of WRITE! For those about to read it, beware of HEAVY SPOILERS. No, seriously, you definitely want to read the story before this review.

Let me preface everything by saying I’m WRITE’s newest reviewer and pretty new to reviewing in general, so I don’t quite have my style down yet. What I like to do with the longer fics, however, is keep a document open to write down any errors I find or any reactions I’d like to preserve. I mention this because I think in this instance several of my reactions might help you understand how a new reader might see certain parts of your story. I will be inserting those comments and reactions along with my current thoughts into this review.

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Let’s begin before the beginning. Your description is short and vague. Despite this, I think it’s exactly what should preface a fic like this one. In fics where popularity is the aim, it behooves the author to write a description that advertises the fic’s strong points and intrigues the reader. This fic, however, is used more as an outlet for artistic expression and is not specifically written to appeal to the largest audience. This aspect of the story is one of its strengths and I feel it would cheapen the tale to have a more straightforward description. The description will serve to turn readers away who are looking for an easy laugh or a cheap cry, but will draw in those readers who want to read something that will take them out of their comfort zone, and I think that’s what you want.

Moving on to the mechanics, this story has few issues. The odd typo still needs to be taken care of, and some sentences suffer from clumsy overall structure. The style in which this story is told lends itself to long sentences and many commas to facilitate your detailed descriptions. Any sentences I had trouble with I made note of, but there may be more comma usage errors than I’m catching. Many of the sentences, while grammatically correct, go on for a bit too long and should be broken up. I’ll be sending you examples via PM. In any case, the mechanics are not the cause of much grief, so let’s continue.

Something that I think really detracts from your story upon first jumping in is the intricate wording. When you describe scenes in detail, you tend to slip into purple prose. I often found myself rereading a sentence several times just to understand what you were referring to. Further adding to this issue is that the descriptions are so densely composed that if I missed something, I absolutely had to backtrack because the transition from fleshing out one thing to fleshing out another happened so quickly I didn’t catch it. Ideally, I’d tell you to revise the chapters that feature heavy scenery description to use more common language so that they flow better for the reader. I understand you’ve limited yourself to approximately one thousand words per chapter — which I wouldn’t violate for other reasons — but that allows very little room for painting a picture, and it shows.

I think a good compromise in this case would be to separate your problem chapters — the first eight chapters, namely — into smaller paragraphs. The reader would have a short break between the dense pockets of prose to breathe and come back without losing their place. This would allow them to go at their own pace and would help smooth out any hiccups they may have. It is particularly irksome to find a troubling sentence, sit back in my chair to think about it, then have to scan back through the paragraph in order to pick up where I left off.

Having said this, your writing flows far better once the narrator begins to wax philosophical about the couple, describing their thoughts rather than the scenery. I feel this change occurs because you use more common language to describe the thoughts and philosophies. The less ornate language does not cheapen the message because it is written with the same artistry as the scenery and it gets the point across a lot more fluidly.

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I think that covers the most grating of the stylistic errors, as there weren’t many to be had. I’m going to go ahead and paste some of my reactions here to give you a better understanding of the way your fic seems to a first-time reader:

After reading chapter II:

From the outset I can tell you that this story will be out of my comfort zone. What we are dealing with is a narrative told through images as they are described to the reader. While artistic, this style seems to eschew some of the tenets of storytelling as I know it. Hopefully this won’t detract from the story itself.

After reading chapter VII:

What was an exercise in painting with words has completed its transformation into a narrator’s ramble. It’s not entirely unwelcome — the story is intriguing and the characters charming — but it has moved away from what I feel it set itself up to be and I yearn for this philosophy to somehow be told as the first few chapters were.

After reading chapter XI:

This story really is beautiful in a lot of ways. The studio artist’s son in me balks at the shift from looking at paintings to listening to a narrator. The writer in me is confused and a little dismayed at the heavily detailed nature of the narration since I’d like to discover such things on my own. Despite these problems, the story’s style has grown on me. At the end of the eleventh chapter, I find I am confused far less and enjoying the romance far more, even though I am missing the chance to interpret the story for myself. It’s a story that wants to be told completely in its own way rather than risk being misconstrued, and I can respect that.

After reading chapter XXVI:

It is at the end of this chapter that I remember there is a ‘Sad’ tag on this story, and I’m dreading the implication. Well, one never got anywhere hiding from unpleasantness. Onward! Ever onward toward death and victory.

After reading chapter XXVIII:

While the love between the main characters is charming, it is starting to become too constant. The conflict in the story has waned and we still have twenty-two chapters to go. I said earlier that I was dreading what the ‘Sad’ tag implied, but now I’m wondering if I just felt the early warning signs of a cataclysmic tragedy for drama’s sake. The characters have been developed enough for it, I suppose, but if that’s where we’re heading it feels a little cheap. It’s as if the story was spun and these characters given life just so I could feel terrible about it when one of them dies or leaves. I hope it doesn’t come to something as simple as that. For now, let’s move on and hope a bit more conflict gets introduced.

After reading chapter XXX:

Things have definitely become a bit too saccharine for me now. Everything they see is beautiful. They love each other so darn much. Also, I caught that one comment about her belly. I guess that means she’s pregnant? The chapter name is ‘XXX’. I may be reading too deeply into that…

After reading chapter XLIII:

God damn it. I hate being right. Damn you, you godforsaken sad tag. I called this thing *goes to check* fifteen chapters back. All so sweet. All so charming. All so wonderful. Such a well-told story. Surely, though, we can’t be satisfied with just having a well-told story. Surely we cannot simply journey around a happy world. Once again, I let a story take me in just for it to crush my soul. At least other stories had the decency to leave after stabbing me, but this one continues for another seven chapters. Guess I gotta go read about life after death now. Damn sad tag...

After reading chapter XLIV:

…
As writers of fiction, it is our goal to make others feel something with our art. Whether that is the heady sweetness of happiness or the crushing doldrums of despair is entirely up to the artist. This story, however, is trying to say something. The whole thing has been setting up the support for its argument. We have been traveling a path that leads not to a simple end, but a nice, sharp point. Fine. Six chapters yet remain in which to learn this nugget of philosophy. Let’s see what it has.

After reading chapter L:

On the ending, I have often heard of an artist’s deeper inspirations coming from pain. While this story might seem to support that idea, I disagree on both points. An artist’s deepest inspirations come from the life they lead, whether they find pain or happiness in it. I feel this story supports my point because I look at this segment of the wayfarer’s life and I see a happy one. Perhaps ‘happy’ is the wrong word…

I see one in which to take joy. This romance is an event that inspired growth and improvement. It changed the wayfarer for the better and if you love someone, you want to see them grow as a person even if it means pain must be caused along the way.

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What makes this good fiction, in my opinion, is the fact that some will find a beautiful story with insightful philosophies while others will find a confusing and pretentious bit of fluff. This is good because it aims for the imaginative audience that wants to think rather than the crowd just looking for a quick fanfiction fix. In that way, it’s written well for its target audience.

While this story was written for its artistry rather than its popular appeal, it should not be immune to criticism. The prose can be very thick and confusing to get through at times. The plot twist — or what I assume was meant to be a twist — is made predictable by the sheer perfection with which the characters view their relationship.

The characterization is excellent, but the perfection of their relationship drags on just long enough to be disenchanting. That’s not to say there isn’t any conflict because there are plenty of internal arguments and discoveries to work with, but when we already know how much they love each other it does get tiring to hear it over and over. It doesn’t do significant harm to the tale, but it does enough to be worth mentioning. If not for the thousand-word bar that is set per chapter, I would recommend pruning. There’s a bit of an internal war going on about the whole character love thing, actually. Part of me says that real couples actually might think this way during the ‘honeymoon period’ when their relationship is starting out, but another part immediately replies that it goes just far enough to dip into the uncanny valley and that’s a problem. It’s an incredibly fine line and I honestly can’t recommend any significant change without fear that it will damage your message.

Actually, let’s talk about the thousand-word thing. I thought it was just kind of cute at first to have each chapter be around a thousand words, but after reading the ending, I think the story almost necessitates that detail. It ties the premise and the plot together seamlessly and I think it would do significant damage to break that connection. Having said that, I think it still causes problems when it comes to editing. You’ve worked around it quite well, but it’s kind of hard from this position to recommend any change without breaking that limitation. It’s hard to know what to do with it.

Unfortunately, due to its nature, I doubt this fic will be widely read. Popular things — particularly on this site — are generally escapes from realism. For all of this story’s fantastic elements, it still feels very real. If I can be an intellectual peasant for a moment, I will say that there are a few things about this story that would have made me pass it up for something lighter: something requiring less brainpower and less emotional attachment. I’m glad I read this story, though, because its worth is not measured in inane guffaws or dramatic gasps, but in raw emotion and thought.

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To summarize, I really liked this fic overall. There was confusion, anger, slight tedium, and sorrow along the way, but I feel richer for the experience. The characterization feels very natural despite the overemphasis placed on their love. The scenery descriptions can be a bit confusing at times, but you do an excellent job of painting a picture with words regardless. The narration is both charming and meaningful and serves to inspire. The plot is simple, but elegant in its execution. The decision to tell the story through paintings is intriguing and you pull it off well. I particularly like how the story’s delivery tied in to the plot.

Focusing on improvement, I would say to do what you can to remove some of the purpleness from the leading chapters and probably cut back on the commas overall. It helps flow if the reader isn’t trying to read an entire thought in one mental ‘breath’, so if you can shorten or divide some of the sentences that would also help. The character interaction seems a bit too delicately balanced with the plot to be nitpicky with, but if you wanted to improve it, you’d need to find a way to replace some of the fawning in later chapters.

I’ve been ending these reviews recently with an ‘x/10’ thing, but I’m starting to feel like a complex opinion shouldn’t be expressed in terms of a number. I’ll simply leave you with the knowledge that I loved this fic and it will be the first fic in the featured box on my page.

- ChromeMyriad, WRITE’s Nanite Construct

[Spop]

I tried, but there is something about you I just don't like.

[The Plebeian]

4177172

It's understandable. The story isn't perfect, and it isn't for everyone. Thanks for trying, at least.

[sydney_alice]

before reading: HOW MANY CHAPTERS!?!?!!