Their movements never stopped. As the tsunami of men had ceased to only a selected few, the entourage of Lilith, Beatrice included, were ushered away following the actress to a prepared set. A set where they would spend tedious hours in, whilst their actress became covered in ridiculous amounts of neon paint that would contrast to the quality of the camera.
Beatrice admired such work. Although it was not an ideal living, proven by their professions nightly activity, she usually became enraptured by the technique it took to create a storyline. Various aspects of the actress being taken into account to follow exactly what the producers want, a single error from the actors setting their work days back. Their elaborate attention to detail takes much patience to achieve.
Moments like these, an actress playing a world of pretend, drawing her in as it pertained to her own personal life in a manner of viewing. She entangled herself with Lilith's performance, as she acted Beatrice sought to place her own being in her shoes. Creating a façade of having everyone's eyes drawn to her. Analyzing her every move to produce flawless steps.
Times like these caused her to forget everything. Her dark brown eyes only absorbed the images of the woman she loathed but admired to a certain extent. The doe shape of her vision casting a reflection of the only light produced from the room and how the girl moved through her lens.
The film they hoped to create portraying innocence, as Lilith was meant to dance in a ditzy manner to radiate the emotions of a naïve girl. None were meant to produce a sound, a single breath could destroy the entire scene as the quality of cameras still lacked more divulging to sound. A single noise would create the distortion of the film's quality, it would very much disrupt the sound already timed to play at any given time.
Curses for not being born into a more advanced society in regards to technology.
Nevertheless, she would not fret. She was in Hollywood after all. Why should she complain over matters of no concern to her? Standing for hours on the sidelines was her only job, as she awaited for the true actress to pay her any mind.
Turning away from the world illuminated by the only light in the room, she eyed the movement at the corner of the room, viewing a man lightly strutting his way into production, his own attention only focusing on what was to be admired.
She quietly exhaled. His presence brings her back to earth. She should think nothing more of acting, its beauty momentarily blinding her from its true colors. After all there was nothing odd about acting being a simple façade, the presence of Cesar Lockwood proving how fake its qualities actually were.
Thus, as she forced her focus back onto her actress, she copped a feel for the joint she had begun to depend on to carry on through her day. Knowing it would be hours before she could enjoy its contents to its full extent.