#timew

Happy 1 year anniversary to the Timewalker campaign’s finale! <3 back in 2019 I wrote a piece with Melos as she prepares to go on her Timewalkers mission. To celebrate this anniversary, I wanted to circle allll the way back to Melos’ original Dragonsworn mentor and her Stormwind apartment. :’)

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“Miss Brassbell.”

“Priestess Starstalker.”

Melostra dips her head low. It looks entirely out of place - this long-limbed, strange creature bowing in reverence to such a small and stout gnomish woman. It spoke to Pippi Brassbell’s experience and seniority within the Bronze Dragonflight. The kaldorei respected a select few people - nearly all of them female kaldorei above her in station - but she would never question Pippi. She was an older gnome, weathered from the sun, her auburn hair streaked with silver. Her disposition was warm, welcoming and open, which made it all the more strange that she had been the one to recommend Melostra Starstalker to the Bronzes. Opposites attract, she supposed.

But Melos had neglected Pippi. She dare not lift her head for what she might see, be it disappointment or anger. She inhales deeply and straightens her back and, with her pink eyes still locked onto the worn wooden floor, she clasps her hands in front of herself. “Miss Brassbell, I’m-” “Melostra. Shame doesn’t suit you. Oh, come now -- raise your chin up.” A knot gathers between the kaldorei’s furrowed brows. Tentatively, hesitantly, she raises her gaze - not by a lot, admittedly - to look Pippi in the eyes for the first time. Large, green, brilliant. It was strange to hear her name spoken by anyone else that wasn’t Demitri or her auntie Lilenya. Priestess, yes. Sister, sometimes. But Melostra was a name that was seldomly spoken aloud. Even more rare was it for the kaldorei to not mind, as much.

“I heard all about your adventure. You did well, you did your job - completed the mission. But…” Pippi pauses, and so does Melos. She inhales deeply, casting her gaze aside again. The window is coated in a thin sheet of dust. Nobody has been in this room in months, and the more she looks around, the more she realizes that some corners are locked in time. An unfinished draft, an open book. Signs that at some point, Melos had lived here. Melos had called this her home. Even during her temporary stay, auntie Lilenya hadn’t dared disturb the traces her niece left behind.

“You left. Your first and your last mission.” Pippi has tilted her head as if trying to maintain eye contact with the much too tall kaldorei, and Melos grants it, meeting her gaze once more. “.... there’s no shame in that, Melostra. To see the things you’ve seen. To lose yourself in time… not everyone is going to be fine with that. Not everyone is going to survive that.”

Completely involuntarily, Melos starts breathing again, from surprise more than anything else. Was that it? Was that the reason for the knot in her chest, the way her lungs seemed to tighten whenever she looked into her mentors green eyes? The Priestess may be cold and distant, but she recognized Pippi’s attempt at comforting her. To heal a hurt she shouldn’t feel obliged to heal. 

It felt like a lifetime ago that Melos had received the summons. Dragonsworn and Watcher Melostra Starstalker was to join her first official mission as a Timewalker, to go back  in time. Thirteen years, to be exact. She had fought in Ashenvale, seen the rise and fall of C’thun, loved Darnassus, and now she was to do it all, all over again. She didn’t know that, then. Melos had been excited to finally prove herself - to who, she wasn’t certain. Maybe Pippi, maybe her auntie, maybe Elune. She had been gifted with a purpose. 

Melos’ responsibility as a Dragonsworn had been to fact check, double check, triple check. She would pour over historical events to compare them to anomalies in the true timeline, so that other Timewalkers may set things right. How ironic, then, that she now spent her days pouring over her diaries and notes, trying to find which of her memories were truly her own.

She had been good at what she did. Years of paperwork had led up to this mission. She wanted to prepare and then over-prepare, make sure she knew the ins and out. All of that knowledge went straight out the window when she and all of her companions were knocked off course and ended up stranded in time. Indeed, it felt like a lifetime ago. Someone else’s lifetime.

“No,” she finally speaks, shaking her head. Her voice is hoarse even when she’s barely spoken a word. “No. Miss…. Pippi, I am not ashamed that I left my duties as a Dragonsworn. I am ashamed that… that I left you. Without saying goodbye.” It’s painful, it’s uncomfortable, and clearly it’s not what Pippi had anticipated, because she jerks her head back and presses her lips into a thin line. Now, it’s awkward as well. Before the gnome has a chance to protest, Melos exhales a wheeze, leaning against her silver staff. It thuds against the woodwork floor as she steps towards the windows, her frame blocking out the sunlight and casting Pippi’s face in darkness. The rays stretch out the priestess’ shadows into something even more monstrous.

Under any other circumstance, it might have made a tense situation even worse - but whatever it was that made Melos appear so foreboding and uncomfortable, Pippi had grown used to - and moreover, the kaldorei seemed so very, painfully mortal, now.  “It was needlessly cruel, and it was thoughtless of me. What drives a person to cast someone aside, when they know what it is like to be discarded?” She had forgiven Demitri a thousand times over, so why could she not do the same for herself? Melos knows the answer. She’s known it for a while.

Because if push came to shove, she would do it all over again. For herself. For her love. For happiness. Her gentle features are fixed into a severe expression, and she is about to continue, but this time, Pippi is the quicker one. “You’re being dramatic.” “I don’t feel as if I am.” Finally, a smile. Lopsided and cheeky, the older gnomish woman puts her hands to her hips and shakes her head. “But you are. And you know? I think that’s okay, too. You…. thought you hurt me.” Melos’ gnarled claws tighten around the shaft of her silver staff, brows furrowed in confusion. “Well…. yes. Did I not?” Her eyes search the gnome’s sunny features for any sign that the woman might be holding back, but Pippi is an open book. “Melostra,” she answers, her voice surprisingly gentle now. “You’re not the first to ditch me, and you won’t be the last.”

Melos blinks and then blinks again, as if the gnome had brought sand all the way from Tanaris and into the small apartment. Her former mentor was neither hurt nor mad, not even disappointed. Her words sound as if they should hurt, as if Pippi should be worn out by this stage. But she’s not. What Melos had been toiling over, Pippi had already left in the past, and although she doesn’t smile, the Priestess does stand straighter. “Oh,” is all she can say for a few seconds. And then, more daring than she ought to be, she continues; “I think I would do it again.”

“I don’t doubt that you would.”

“Oh,” Melos repeats.

Pippi shakes her head with a smile so wide it seems to take up half her face. It doesn’t look disproportionate - in fact, Melos thinks it rather suits her. “The Bronzes live forever, and not at all. They’ve seen Dragonsworn come and go again and again. Melostra, you’re a star amongst a million. We’re inconsequential. By the time our light reaches them, they’ve long since moved on.” And then the truth that Melos had not considered, throughout all her careful watching and writing; “From the moment you met me, they already knew you would only last for one mission.” 

The relief is so tangible that it exits the kaldorei’s lungs in a sharp huff of air. She leans back against the windowsill, head tilted back. The sunlight crowns her silver hair in a halo. “But hey,” the gnome continues, watching her much taller companion with wide, green eyes. “Just because your starlight didn’t reach the Bronzes… that doesn’t mean it won’t shine brightly somewhere else.” To this, Melos hums, and then smiles. She caresses the silver staff with both hands, feeling the weight of it. Throughout every timeline she knew, this simple instrument was consistent. It was hers, it was the Moth of the Moon’s, it was the weapon of Melostra Starstalker. But this Melos, this timeline’s Melos, had something most of them did not. Somewhere to shine her light. Someone to share her rays with.

“I know,” the Priestess says, using her staff as leverage to push herself off the windowsill. “I have found such a place.”

“Why, Melostra,” Pippi muses, arms outstretched to the sides. “Then what on Azeroth are you doing here?”

To part on a hug would be ingenuine, but the deep bow that Melos offers is not enough to express her feelings. Pippi seems to agree, because she offers her hand, and the Priestess shakes it without hesitation. “Thank you, miss Brassbell,” she says with a tentative smile. “And good luck with your future Dragonsworn.” Pippi waves away both the thanks and the good luck with a smile. “If we ever meet again, call me Pippi.”

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