Heatherfield's story/original species

Hullo there! So I am working on Heatherfield's story and her design is an original species of mine I call Budeer. Since I made her a Neela I changed her design a little to reflect that more and also to make the species a little more unique; so the first link is her original design and the second one is the revamped one it's just not coloured.

Heatherfield Original

Revamped Version

So the post for her story is pretty long

I also just realized how much you need visual aids to understand the characters so here they are

Lelupe Bluebonnet Rosehip

Fourth Field

"Ooh!" Bluebonnet gasped. Her mouthful of clover fell, half chewed from her open jaws. She stared back at me with unbelieving eyes and honestly I didn't blame her, the whole thing did seem...unreal. I took a long, calculated inhale before I was ready to answer. Fortunatly or unfortunatly she cut me off just as I was about to speak; typical Bluebonnet style. "You're telling me, that Lelupe came by your garden today?" She put a skeptical emphasis of Lelupe's name. "That's exactly what I'm telling you," I answered with a level gaze. The white and cream speckled doe and I shared a long moment of silence before she broke from it with a quick shake of her head. She came back to the conversation with a different approach "But, I don't understand," "His garden is in the Second Field, why would he be this far down scoping gardens? I mean we can't even compete," The only reply I offered was a dismissive shrug of my shoulders. Bluebonnet was not the kind of doe that you let into your personal business; she was already so easily flustered and dramatic. She didn't need anymore stimulation, not to mention I wasnt sure I felt like sharing. Fixing me with as serious a face as she could muster about such a "exciting" thing to happen so close to her. Slowly, she raised one of her eyebrows "Well, what did he say to you?" "He must have said something to you," Ugh. I knew she would ask that question, why did I even tell her in the first place? I should have told Menot. I formulated a filtered response that would answer her in the barest terms. "He complimented my work," I said, tilting up my head and closing my eyes in mockery. She wrinkled her slender face at my lack of details; I could tell she was burning to unload more questions. It quickly transformed into a dreamy one and then she closer eyes and dipped her head back to let the Sun's rays fall on her face. Her large round ears shrouded most of her face at that angle, masking her delicate features. Bluebonnet had been born without a head of hair and while that wasn't so unusual she had always been self concious about it, so she tied her ears forward with her bluebonnet antlers with the blossoms tucked right under her chin. It really did make her look like she was wearing a little green and blue bonnet; obviously this was on purpose, but I gave her props for the ingenuity. "So what I have something to frame my face," was her answer when someone inquired as to her fashion choice. Still lost in the blue and white ocean overhead she pondered, "Maybe he was scouting or walking through to look at the potential for next year." She was referring to our caste system of gardens and fields. Back then we were in Fourth Field, a place reserved for first year gardeners to practice and learn before they entered Third Field. That was where the games began, being the largest of the four Fields it was also the hardest to get out of. In some cases whole families would commit to the growth of one garden in the hopes that someone would be able to move up. If and individual were lucky enough, they could be noticed by a Second or First Fielder, which meant they might move up a Field. This meant increased garden size, better environments for growth, better matches and the chance to move up to First Field. My thoughts drifted to Lelupe for the slightest moment before Bluebonnet started up again. Apparently she had had her fill of the sky because she was back to staring at me. I got the feeing she'd seen my mind drifting and what she came out with certainly didn't help. "He's so handsome Heatherfield! What if he did take a fancy to you?! I wonder if he'll do anything next year," Her voice trailed on the last bit, she was thinking about next year, and the move. I was going to give her an answer to save the conversation, but she had it under control. "His tulips are amazing! I wonder what his garden looks like. Oh! And his antlers, they have such a spread to them, not to mention his Flare is so stylish. And what about his shaggy head of blonde hair?" Her voice drifted again at the last sentace. "Focus Bluebonnet," I grumbled. "All he did was pass by. I saw Rosehip here the other day and she's a First Fielder," An image of the golden doe and her long silver forelock came to my mind then. She was always the most sought after when it came to matching and it had been that way since she was elligable. She also spent a great amount of time wandering through all the gardens, but she hardly spoke to anyone. "Too good for us," was the general consensus as to why she didn't ever say anything. The amount of time she stayed away from her garden was a sign of how strong it truly was that it didn't need much tending to stay viral. A little sheepish about her moment of admiration she took a physical and mental step backward. I could tell she was butt sore that I wouldn't swoon with her about Lelupe. She glanced at me one more time before dipping her head halfheartedly. Back down to the clover patch that she had previous to my paradigm changing news been enjoying; quietly I might add. After that she didn't press me anymore about Lelupe. We talked instead about normal things, like blossoms and buds and current status of our gardens. We shared growing secrets; things we found that did and surely did not work. Only the kind of conversation that Fourth Feilders would have; next year would be very different. As one moves up in the system so does the pattern of behavior. Next year would be the beginning of a tough time for us. Information like gardening secrets and techniques were not openly shared in Third Field since the competition was so high. Close friends and family members might share, but generally practices were fiercely guarded. Second Field was a hit or miss as far as anything goes. Some Gardeners get there and are met with friendly faces and advice and others are met with backsides and turned noses. It all depended on what you bring to the table. Politics, always politics, and First Field was the worst. We stayed there in that little patch until the Sun began to drag her long, red, fingers back to the horizon. In those days we slept in our gardens most nights and traveled to our respective dens rarely. Our gardens were so young at that point that they were unable to regulate themselves and thus required almost constant attention. That day had been our fourteenth in the gardens and finally we were headed home for some much needed rest. I bid Bluebonnet good bye and we parted ways; she back to the stone cave she shared with her mother and I back to my cozy little thicket in a darker, emptier part of the forest. That night as I lay nestled into my bed I replayed the events of that afternoon in my head in a way I couldn't with Bluebonnet.

It had all started simple enough. As I said it was our fourteenth day straight in our gardens and we were starting to lose some of our strength. Bluebonnet's little garden was only a few minute stroll through a patch of forest away from mine. During our extended stays we were able to communicate very regularly in this way. I'd woken up early that morning to get to work rooting out some undergrowth. I was concerned might set rot into my roots if I didn't clear it out, that only added extra work to my daily routine of blossom checks along with root, stalk, and leaf checks. I know it sounds simple, but nothing is simple when their is pressure set upon your shoulders. I was in the middle of pushing a wet clump of leaves out of the garden with my nose when his shadow fell over me and my flowers. Not that I knew it was him; I looked up expecting to see Bluebonnet's or Monet's eyes, but instead I met a golden pair. Having a difficult time placing who had eyes as bright as that my mind finally settled on the fact that only one deer had eyes like that. I was scared stiff, I had never seen Lelupe so close up in all my life. The closest I had been prior to that fateful moment was perhaps one hundred yards and that was exciting enough. My eyes trailed up his tulips antlers, marveling at the radiant blossoms in full bloom. Across the few feet that seperated us the scent wafted down into my nostrils; I took a long deep breath and tried to make it seem as normal as possible. I looked down to find Lelupe's eyes smiling back at me in a way I wasn't entirely sure was platonic. In reality Lelupe was only two winters older than Bluebonnet, Menot and I, but the thing about him was that he was considered a prodigy as far as Gardeners go. He'd spent only a year in Third Field before moving up to Second; that kind of movement was unheard of. It was only a matter of time until he moved up to First Field and the whole herd knew it. As such, he was developing quite a fanbase, especially with young does who fantasized about having his attention. Odly enough Lelupe had been free to match up for two seasons and hadn't even take a shot at a doe. He was always at his garden or at Moonlighters. Very common among the top two Fields; Moonlighters were grand parties held under the light of the moon as one would assume. They were comprised of feasts, entertainment, playful competition, flirtation and all that came dripping with an internal power struggle that our culture is. "Heather flowers," He was actually smiling now, I think my heart skipped at that moment. He almost said my name, "I don't think we've ever had a heather garden before. How rare" I stood there stupidly as he dipped his elegant neck down to smell the blossoms closest to him. His shaggy blonde bangs fell over his eyes and spilled over the tops of my flowers. I just stood there, watching him, as I became acutely aware of the fact that I had not done any of my daily inspections yet. I began to scanned without moving a muscle; stuff shoulders, neck unmoving, the only things I moved were my eyes. In that way I hoped that maybe it still looked like I was just standing there like an idiot. "They're beautiful," I jumped at that moment and looked up to fall into his golden eyes again; his voice was the smooth skin on the top of petal. Why am I so awkward. "Th-th-thank you...Lelupe," Smooth Heatherfield, stuttering AND choking on his name? Smooth. He hadn't stopped smiling though, it wasn't like he was grinning, but his eyes had this way of smiling without the rest of his face following suit. I looked down at my feet instead of continueing to gape at him like a fawn. "What is your name Miss?" Miss?? How formal. I choked on my own spit before I could answer him, "Heatherfield," Well atleast I got that part out right, He nodded slowly as if my name came with some sort of weight attatched to it that he had to digest. "Well, keep up the good work Miss Heatherfield. You have a nice young garden here," the afternoon sun made his fangs gleam; the hung well past his chin and curved at the slightest angle back towards him. With a flick of his fluffy tail he turned to go and seeing how I was unable to think of anything at all to say to him I simply watched him go.

Even after all this time, that chance encounter still makes my stomach flop. After that, I didn't see Lelupe again for a whole year. For a time after our meeting I hoped in vain that he would show up again and then I'd be able to say something that showed I had more than two brain cells, but he never came. Days passed into weeks and then into months and I finally gave up any notion that he would come back to see me or my garden. I am only a Fourth Fielder after all, I told myself Just the same, I held onto that memory of that day the rest of the time I spent in Fourth Field. I used it as motivation; Lelupe had said my garden was beautiful and he meant at least that much. So I threw myself into my garden and spent even fewer nights in my thicket and with the changing of the seasons, I moved up to Third Field.

Id appreciate input and feedback :) So long as its not unnecessarily harsh....

One last thing!

I see lots of people writing for others for a profit. What do you think of my writing? I have more examples; do you think I'd have success in that field?

Okie dokie

First thing I noticed is right in your opening paragraph you start in third person and switch to first person. I understood after the next sentence that it was because the rest of the story was going to be told from a first person point of view, but especially in the same paragraph on the same line switching point of view makes the pacing stumble a little bit. It might be best to start the story right off in first person so the reader doesn't have to go through a change of point of view.

I LOVE the poem about cake. The flow is awesome.

For the "Then suddenly our lives changed" it might be a good idea to put that on its own line since its supposed to be such a radical turning point giving it its own line makes it punch better as opposed to tagging onto an otherwise normal paragraph. There's a couple other sentences that would benefit from the same idea.

The car flipped completely over right? It seems that the Nineveh would have at the very least been pressed up against the hood of the car or that it would have been very difficult to cradle her sister while she died. I just got a little lost at that point.

Okay. I feel like I've been way too harsh so here is all the things I really loved.

I loved the over all tone of the piece especially once it got started and you seemed to hit your stride. I liked that the story spanned over several years and you gave us little blurbs of her life as opposed to writing the entire thing out. It gives your mind room to wander as to what she was doing and where she will go after the story's completion. Her story goes along with her species and colour really well especially with the Devonti's expression which I always thought belonged to a character who was bloody from unavoidable circumstances or something unfortunate since it's expression is one of shock and horror as opposed to being vicious and blood thirsty. Getting revenge on her abusive family was good touch, it kept it gritty and real with the rest of the piece's undertones. The fact that the cop let her go at the end was an unexpected and nice touch. Everyone always feels that getting revenge on something like that should be justified and the fact that in her case it was and she was let free was surprising. It leaves the reader wondering what she will do with her life now that it has been given back to her and her vengeance has been fulfilled.

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Heatherfield's story/original species

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