"When did all that get here?" he asked.
"The Wayland Sister's studio has been here forever," Anita answered, pointing to the radio tower on one lot with the 'WS' sign on top of it.
"I remember them from when I was a kid. I didn't know they were in Harland."
"Yeah, they've always been here." She indicated another. "That's Proteria Film, over there is Laurel Entertainment. Behind that is Brock Studio, as well as Carlisle Movies. There's a bunch of smaller companies throughout that, who make low budget movies. The big ones are like Wayland, been here forever, although they probably weren't as big back then. The rest settled here in the twenties. It's surprising what forty years of support from the city will do for an industry."
"So they settled here before Harland became the entertainment center? Of Tiranis?"
She nodded. "They were probably thinking about it already, but yeah. The big changes didn't come until after Tear Jerker's attack."
Eric snickered. "I'm never going to be able to take that guy seriously."
"Good thing he's dead then." She began walking again, and they passed shops selling souvenirs, clothing, electronics, books, movies, a lot of restaurants.
He found himself pulling on his jacket, trying to smooth it, and wishing he'd worn something other than jeans. When he caught his reflection in a storefront window had smoothed his hair.
"Are you okay?" Anita didn't seemed perturbed by any of it, but then again, she was gorgeous.
"I feel out of place. More so than usual," he amended. He motioned to the people walking along the road. He'd thought those he saw on the drive in had been beautiful, but they'd been poor approximations of the men and women around them.
they walked tall, back straight, chin high, immaculately dressed, proud. He felt like he was among royalty. Even the hobo begging for coins looked to be wearing more expensive clothing than he was.
She pulled him along. "Ignore them. They're all fake." She received glares and returned beaming smiles. "Anyone who looks like that is a wannabe actor ready for the Lord to smile on them and be picked for the next blockbuster. I bet that if you found their apartment, it would be a cardboard box at the back of an alley with all their dreams in it."
Eric eyed her. "That's kind of sad."
"It's also an exaggeration, but they have to make sacrifices to look like that. You do get no one looks that good naturally, right?"
Eric raised an eyebrow.
"What?" Anita looked around nervously.
"Have you looked in the mirror recently?"
"Is there something wrong with my hair?" She stopped and looked at her reflection in the store's window. She ran her fingers through her hair that had become messed from dancing, smoothed the short fur under her muzzle. There was no nervousness in the acts. She was just putting them in order.
He moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her wide waist and rested his head on her shoulder. "You don't see it, do you?"
She frowned and searched her reflection. "See what?"
"You are more beautiful than anyone on this street. And it's all natural."
She met his eyes in the reflection and smiled. Her ears fluttered, the inside blushing. "I'm nothing like them."
He beamed. "You have that right. They couldn't hope to ever measure up to you."
"You're a saw, you know that?"
"The luckiest," he replied.
She turned and kissed him. He melted into her arms.
"You know," he whispered. "We could go back to your place and I could worship you properly."
She smiled. "Later. This might be one of the last chances we have to ride 'Spirits of the Past' and I don't want to miss it." She pulled him along.
"But what if I can't survive without drinking you in properly?"
"What about this morning?"
He gasped. "That was hours ago, you can't expect me to last until tonight."
She pulled him against her. "You sap." She kissed him.
"The luckiest," he replied, putting an arm around her shoulder.
They made it to the bottom of the hill with only a minimum of ??sentimentality??. Just before it leveled off, while still high enough to see over the walls of the closest studio, benches were set so people could sit and watch filming take place. They paused and looked on for a few minutes as a family of hyenas were filmed exiting a modest house and pack vacation gear into a car. Redoing it four times until whoever was in charges decided they were happy with it and the crew turned around to the opposing house, something older, and set up so they seemed to be in the backyard. The hyena family did a quick change of clothing, looking haggard as they walked around the house and vanished behind it.
Eric looked from one house to the other. "Is that for the same movie? The style looks different."
"I think so. I sort of recognize this house." She indicated the older one. "I think it's part of a horror movie franchise."
"The Vacation house," one of the men on the closest bench answered. He was human, in his early sixties, "they're filming the seventh movie."
"I don't know why they're bothering," the one next to him said. A coyote in the same age range. "The fifth and sixth were disasters."
"They weren't that bad."
"Oh come on. What would you know? You think Doll House is a masterpiece."
"How can you not appreciate the art that went into making that movie?"
"The acting's all stiff, where's the art in that?"
Anita grinned at Eric and they walked off.
"They're dolls, that's the point."
"No they're bad actors who..."
When they couldn't hear the two of them Eric shook his head. "They remind me of my dad."
Going Home is a series that Explores the city of Tiranis through the eyes of Eric Clarkson, a returning veteran, who finds that the city has changed more than he expected in his absences.
Each section of the series will focus on a different part of the city while Eric gets pulled into problems typical to that area, or sometimes not so typical.
This is about 1000 words of the 6,100 words chapter.