Changeling Pt.1 - Teil 1

Kelaste sighed, breathing in the cool spring air. It was one of those nights, the cold, windy ones, which made him restless, made him leave his safe apartment, made him strive into the Ghetto. Away, just away from the prickly clean streets of Central District and down into the abbyss of dirt, crime and poverty.

He knew he would stand out of the typical crowd as he approached the "Philtre", one of the few nightclubs near the district borders. The entrance was crammed with waiting people, most of them wearing the typical tattered clothes of Punk lifestyle, a few black clothed Gothics inbetween the mohawked folk. His violet leather jacket impressed with snake skin patterns would be the first indication that he "wasn't from around here", but if someone saw the Versace blend on his skin tight leather trousers, he'd be done for. The ghetto people hated nothing more than the "rich bastards from Central", and his clothing was screaming MONEY in capital letters.

So why was he here, Kelaste mused, watching the busy nightclub from a distance. Was it a death wish? Finally ending his existance of boredom and loneliness as he should have done many times before?

Maybe.

With flaring nostrils Kelaste started walking again, hands in the pockets of his jacket, the teased strands of pitch black hair seesawing in the spring breezes. He had just turned nineteen, a slim, elegant figure of merely male build, sweet and innocent looking as can be. Some people thought him younger, sixteen maybe, rather a boy than a young man, but didn't all teenagers look the same?

His looks had been an advantage before, sparing him a good few punches when he had hooked up with the wrong crowd, but right now he was pretty sure he'd get into trouble for "looking too young".

Approaching the bouncer, he fingered for his ID, pulling it out before the man could say anything. A ripped poster at the steel door announced the band "Angerhammer", a name fitting for the shrieking noise coming from behind the thick felt curtain covering the Doorframe.

The bouncer took his time comparing the ID to his face, and Kelaste couldn't help but smile at his guarded facial expression. How often had he seen exactly that look? Finally he got motioned inside, took his ID with a purring "Thank you", and passed the curtains.


The room smelled of sweat, beer and cigarettes, mixed with the still lingering aroma of disinfectants, an artificial, wonderful scent that buried itself deep inside Kelaste's brain. It was one of the advantages/disadvantages of being a Changeling to have this increased ability to smell and remember scents, that made his life a sweet agony of memories and nostalgia; that made it worth living a bit longer yet.

"Angerhammer" still jammed and mistreated their instruments, entertaining a crammed, but small crowd of headbanging drunks, filling the room with the angry sneer of raw emotions. Just a bit too loud, and a bit too tuneless Kelaste decided, as he weaved his way through the fixated audience, striving for the bar at the other side of the room. Flashes of blue light danced over his body as he passed the stroboscope, blinded by the intensity of the small gadget. For a second he couldn't see anything but black and white specs dancing through his sight, and when he ran into something solid, he first didn't realize it was a person rather than the counter itself.

"How about 'I'm sorry', scrap?" a slightly hoarse, but agreeable voice growled right next to his ear, while a strong hand grabbed his arm, and made him register his mistake. Slowly his eyesight turned back to normal, and suddenly he found himself in front of a slender, muscular man dressed in typical ripped black armypants and a muscle shirt with a band symbol he didn't recognize. Piercings of every known flavour adorned his nose, brows, lips and ears, perfectly fitting with the bleached blonde mohawk and the utterly amused expression on his features.

It took Kelaste nearly thirty seconds to stop staring, and mutter "Sorry", before he remembered how to breathe, and more importantly, how to blush.