>See, the thing about my mom? She's a very sweet and caring person.
>The pagan I had for a girlfriend remarked that she was like one of
>these sweet little old white witches that putter around in their
>garden, making herbal medicines for the local villagers.
>
>HOWEVER...
>
>What few people ever suspect is the wild, fiery, and utterly
>vindictive mean streak she possesses.

Ah yes. Around White Rose Fleet headquarters, this is known as the Inazuma type. Sweet, pleasant, loveable, really just all-around delightful, and she will fucking cut you if she has to. :) (Or drydock you with a mini-torpedo, which I have to admit I occasionally consider as a way of showing a certain infernal duke to the Final Door. :)

>These kids fucking FREAK OUT, because suddenly here comes this stout
>woman, who looks very much Native American herself, and carrying
>in-hand what, in the middle of the night, could only look like a
>goddamn tomahawk.

I submit that even if they didn't make the tomahawk association, "angry woman with an axe" is probably intimidating enough.

>These two would probably claim that it was the inherent
>"Crazy" in his blood combined with the drugs that made them go around
>the bend.)

There's no actual evidence that a person's mental state has any bearing on the qualities of his or her blood? But you did just give me the mental image of a younger, wilder Azula—say, right out of college—sussing out a clubhopping vampire(ss) well before the Big Moment and deciding ahh, what the hell, you only live twice, chicks dig scars and glory lasts forever, let's see how this goes... only to end up in the unaccustomed position of being the adult supervision when all hell breaks loose. :)

Clymene returned to her senses to find herself lying crumpled at the base of a brick wall under what looked like it had been a hotel's front awning. She tried to get up, but the spinning in her head made her reconsider doing so all at once, and for the moment she settled for sliding back down the wall and sitting there propped up against it.

Before her stretched the remains of what had been two city blocks of downtown New Constanza. It looked like it had been bombed from the air in her absence: buildings leaning crazily or toppled into the street, the pavement split up the middle as if by an earthquake. Spot fires still burned here and there despite the driving rain. Looking down at herself, she saw that her clubbing clothes were in rags, whole swatches of what had been an expensive velvet jacket and lace shirt torn away, her trousers shredded as if by some overenthusiastic avant-garde wardrobe artist. She shivered to think what her own flesh must have looked like if she'd been wearing the things when that happened, which, judging from the drying blood, she had.

"Wha... what happened?" she asked, aghast.

A low chuckle made her look to her left, too quickly, and the world swam for a moment before stabilizing on a view of the black-haired girl she'd singled out in the club that evening. What was her name? Susan? Sarah. That was it. She, too, was looking a bit the worse for wear, her clothes torn and burned. A bloodstained white bandage tied in a jaunty bow around her neck suggested what had become of the front of Clymene's shirt.

Despite this, and the fact that she'd been the victim of a vampire attack, Sarah looked entirely too cheerful about the whole situation. In fact, she seemed positively exhilarated, her amber eyes glittering with glee.

"Well," she said, sounding deeply amused, "that's complicated, but mostly, you did."

Clymene regarded the scene with wide eyes. "I did all this?"

"The lion's share. Well, I suppose if you want to get technical, the gas main did a fair bit of the heavy lifting."

"Sweet Elvis," Clymene murmured. "These are not the hoofprints of your normal God-fearing vampire."

"Indeed not," Sarah agreed, sitting down next to her in a companionable sort of way.

"This... this never happened to me before," Clymene heard herself saying in an amazed voice, as if explaining some strange behavior to a friend or lover. "Normally it's the human who freaks out. Who the hell are you?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Sarah replied.

They sat in a strangely friendly silence for a bit, watching the fires burn. Off in the distance, above the susurrus of the rain, came the faint sound of sirens, heralding the belated approach of the emergency services.

Sarah sighed and got to her feet again, dusting off what remained of her skirt. "Well, I must be going before the armed forces arrive. And you should pull yourself together and get inside, sunrise can't be that far off at this point. Thank you for the most entertaining evening I've had in... oh, years." She leaned down and patted Clymene's shoulder, then moved closer and murmured in her ear, "Perhaps this will teach you to consider your partners. By the way, the bill is in your name."

"Bitch," Clymene replied, but she was unable to muster any real resentment.

"On occasion," Sarah agreed cheerfully. Straightening, she rummaged in an inside pocket of her mostly-intact leather jacket, got out a card and a pen, and jotted a note on the one with the other.

"This was fun!" she said, then bent to tuck the card into Clymene's bra strap and kiss her on the cheek. "Call me sometime."

Clymene sat slumped against the wall, watching her saunter away, then raised her voice and called after her, "Hey!" Sarah paused, looking back, an eyebrow raised. "... I'll do that," said Clymene, feeling as awkward as a teenager.

Sarah smiled, turned, and walked off into the gathering morning, raising one hand above her shoulder in a chipper backhand wave as she went. Off to the east, the sky was just starting to go pink as she disappeared into the smoke at the end of the block and was gone.

"... Shit," Clymene grumbled, then dragged herself upright and stumbled off toward her apartment.

... something like that. :)

>(K-F drives in UF-verse, I'd imagine, would be regarded as quaint
>things that only the most desperate or most eccentric would bother
>with.

I'm not sure the principle behind the K-F drive works in the UF universe, but even if it does, I suspect it would be one of those technological dead ends that nobody ever did anything with. Like, every civilization that ever invented it looked at the math and went, "No, fuck that, we're not building that" and waited for someone to come up with the hyperspace motivator. :)

>After that, it was a lost cause trying to keep her out of the action.
>Even the idea of trying to deny her the rightful war prize of her Zaku
>left a bad taste in their mouths.
>
>Just to make the picture complete, have them be citizens of the
>Confederate Freespacers.

Well, it would have to be the Freespacers at that point, wouldn't it. :)

--G.
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Benjamin D. Hutchins, Co-Founder, Editor-in-Chief, & Forum Mod
Eyrie Productions, Unlimited http://www.eyrie-productions.com/
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