The train rattles.
My eyelids are heavy... but I can't sleep. Not now. There's no time for anything but hunting.
I feel the crimson squeal of brakes against the rails.
Another subway. Another cornucopia of smells. I exit, stumbling, tugging my luggage behind me. Several sighs fly loose on magenta wings, but I can't stop to sight-see. I have to trot clear across town—which is both easy and impossible at the same time. After all, this is Manetreal.
As soon as I'm at street level, I hoof it to the nearest art district. The city boulevards shrink into narrow walkways, replacing asphalt with brick. Everything feels distinctly Stirropean. The last time I toured here, I couldn't even pretend to pronounce the names of the neighborhoods in my head. It's one of the only moments in my adult life where felt quietly comfortable with being mute.
I pass by multiple night clubs and cafes, and part of me rues the fact that I'm here only for a search. But it doesn't matter. I have to keep looking. There's a fire burning deep inside of me. I must keep it kindled. I have to maintain this pace... this canter... this manic gallop into tomorrow.
The only way I can stay sane...
The only way I can remain in one piece... ...
... ... ...is if I can still create.
But before I start—like any good painter—I must have a firm foundation.
And so... I hit the stores.
Record shops. Music shops. Anything with signage that resembles a music note—I dash in. I pilfer... scour... I rummage through.
I try thrift stores.
Antique stores.
Even multi-register department stores that couldn't be caught dead selling anything but Countess Coloratura albums...
I search them all...
...and I find nothing.
My breaths are heavy... but I can weather them.
After all, what did I expect?
Doesn't matter what continent, city, island, or province...
...so long as it exists in Equestria, my hopes are slim.
It doesn't stop the fire from burning inside me. However, the body attached to the flame is fleeting. If I want to continue this search, I have to do so sanely. If after all of this trouble I'm too tired to even see what I'm looking for with my own shaded eyes...
Well...
Some sleep can't hurt.
So I find myself a cheap hotel. The mare in the front lobby is an adorable thing whose muzzle drops upon instantly recognizing me. Before I know it, I've signed my name for her, and then I take my keys up to the third floor.
What's happening to me?
Am I being warm? Receptive?
...am I smiling?
I'm too tired to tell... or care.
I collapse on the bed, facing away from the window. The yawns drag me under, but I keep my mind alert for as long as I can afford to.
Tomorrow, I hit Manehattan.
If I can't find what I'm looking for there...
...then Celestia help me.