It's later than Rarity would like. Still, she's awake and in the common room, robe on over her pajamas, hair pulled back, quietly working. There's sheet music and lyrics scattered across the coffee table in front of her and next to her where she's sitting on the sofa. Some of it has been set aside after only a line or two: "we belong to the light/we belong to the thunder" reads one sheet; "keep holding on/for we have to make it through, make it through/just stay strong" is on another; a third is covered in nothing but roughly written sheet music on imperfect hand-drawn staff.

She's been working on the current sheet for fifteen or so minutes; she'll be happy to share, if interrupted, or to put it down and help if anyone needs it. For now, she's simply writing lyrics:

There is a house in Vista City
They call the rising sun
It's made and ruined many a poor girl
And I'm afraid I'm one