△ Clan; Tremere △

Zenith Star is tall (around 5'8") and slender, with long blonde hair. She's conventionally attractive, but not terribly remarkable. You could mistake her for a great many other people from a distance. At a closer glance, you'd wonder how you did that, because the woman before you just looks a bit... off. Her light green eyes are too big, glassy, and there's something that feels hollow and false about them. Her other features are fine, just a little too symmetrical, a little too perfect, kind of like the 'after' picture at the Plastic Surgeon's, which places her face firmly in the uncanny valley. Tightly wound, the fragile mask of her outer calm sometimes gives way to a cold fury.

It was the dawning of the Age Of Aquarius. Depending on who you asked.
Zenith Star Maclendon was born in 1963, to Robert and Patricia Maclendon. The only child of that unhappy union, Zenith wasn't born under any auspicious signs, bad or otherwise, the moon was its usual color, and her visions for her future didn't include any Fire And Brimstone, nor any Peace, Love, and Understanding.

Zenith spent an unconventional childhood, finding herself cast unwillingly in the role of parent or keeper. Her Artist mother was searching for something just beyond reach; meaning, Zenith thought. She joined Commune after Commune, changing spiritual groups as fast and furiously (I'm talking real Sykchosphiles) as some people changed their socks. Eventually she fell into Wicca, and Zenith had to learn to tolerate a vegetarian diet, and the monthly gatherings of moon drenched, brain addled nudists in the backyard. This inspired invention, alchemy in the form of stink bombs, and strategically placed, homemade itching powder.

Robert Maclendon busy was chasing his own dragon; fame. Also a shitload of drugs. Zen (nickname alert) was pretty sure that deep down Dad really didn't like himself much, and couldn't stand all the silent spaces when someone wasn't telling him how great he was. Sucked to be him, because great he was not. Writer/Singer of an inspiring folk ditty that shot him to initial stardom, he never quite managed to make good on that potential promise. His habits got bad, he fell out of practice, he sabotaged all his relationships... blah blah blah. Then his looks went, his boyish charm bloated and sank into a sort of shrill petulance. This was the man Zenith inherited. He spent most of the rest of his life in smokey dive bars, first as the entertainment, then as a fixture. Good old Bobby Maclendon, hell of a guy. Unless you actually needed him to be there for you. He'd probably be out drinking.

By the time the '80s had rolled around, all that exposure to the 'rents had caused Zenith to pull a total Alex P. Keaton. Art was commercial, all those great thinkers and philosophers were just so many lazy, dysfunctional assholes, and wouldn't we all be better off if we could admit that we lived in a cruel, transactional society? Nikola Tesla died broke, deeply in love with a pigeon for fuck's sake. Edison went out rich, bitch! She wasn't talking much to either parent; they'd long split up by this point, though they continued to over-involve her in their various entanglements. Mom needed putting on an allowance because she was spending all her alimony on con men who told her she was special. She wasn't. Dad needed help dumping his clingy girlfriend, a love-bombed, rather stupid 'woman' who was only a few years older than Zenith. After the third time it happened Zenith decided save herself the additional drama, and let her Dad go. That was one great things about having a Dad who was an inveterate fuck up. It was a relief for him too. He didn't argue the point, he just shuffled off out of her life to die of his alcoholism alone.

A solid student at Berkeley High, (all she had to do was show up 'not high') she set her sights as far from her insufficient upbringing as she could. Higher Education was going to be her path out of becoming her shitty parents. She tuned in, showed up, and did the hard work. Finally she was taking control of her life. She was accepted into UC Berkeley's Department Of Film and Media. Zenith was planning to become a Documentary Filmmaker, travelling the world, laying bare its secrets, using them to advance herself. Eventually she might even get her own televised bully pulpit! Springboard that synergy! True Crime, Satanism, Falling-in-love-with-your-car, Your-Uncle-was-your-Paw-Paw, she intended to do deep dives into all the weird stuff that people just couldn't get enough of. She'd rip the mystery out of it, and chuck it down their throats in easy to manage, bite-sized pieces. Alas, it was not meant to be, and the world was deprived of its next Geraldo/Oprah when Zenith found a kindred spirit in her sire, and became the subject of her own occult mystery.