(This occurs immediately after the events of "The Past is a Story We Never Tell", one of the Postmoogle quests. If you choose to play it, be warned that the quest has heavy content warnings for racism, sexual assault, implied csa, acab, threats of death, strongly implied threats of sexual assault, grooming of minors and adolescents, cults, and sex cults)

“You are certain you all wish to go through with this?” Serpent Commander Vorsaile Heuloix interrogated with an intensity the Warriors of Light had never heard from him before, not even during the most dire of emergency briefings they had attended. “I promise, the Twin Adders will do everything within our power to resolve this incident, but if you leave the Grand Company it shall be permanent. There will be no coming back.”

All present were surprised when Sibold was the one to speak up, normally the most calm and level headed of the Warriors of Light. “Forgive me, Vorsaile, but ‘resolve this incident’? This is far more than just an ‘incident’. One of our members is severely traumatized by what occurred, what has been occurring because this is far more than a single ‘incident’.” Standing in the back, surrounded by her allies in an almost protective wall, Satora shrank further into herself, eyes red from sobbing. “This has been a recurring pattern amongst the Wood Wailers, the Twin Adders, and Gridania as a whole. The rest of us may not have been directly impacted, but it doesn’t take being a victim of this aurochs shite to see that this behavior is completely unacceptable!”

A crowd was beginning to gather, curious to see who was so bold as to scream at the commander of the Twin Adder and then shocked to see the Warriors of Light, heroes of the realm, as the source of the commotion. Vorsaile Heuloix found himself fidgeting, his nerve leaving him as the risk of this exploding into a political scandal increased far beyond what he had ever anticipated having to deal with.

“I understand, and as I stated, we will do everything in our power to resolve this inc- this issue with all haste and due consideration. I am in full agreement that such behavior is unacceptable and will make it a personal mission of mine to root out any who engage in such activities.”

Sibold was undeterred, glaring directly at Vorsaile as he retorted, “See to it that you do. But it is still too late to keep us around.”

A beat passed as Vorsaile considered his options before finally he released the breath he had been holding and came to a decision. “Very well. I will prepare the paperwork for your honorable discharges from the Order of the Twin Adders. Once it is signed by all five of you, I will stamp the form and make it official and you will be released from service.” Better, he thought to himself, to acquiesce to prevent this from escalating further in public. He could work with the other higher ups to issue a formal statement later to dissuade any rumor mongering regardless of its accuracy, then work to bring back the heroes of the realm. Having them hostile to the Twin Adder and Gridania itself would pose ill for the city-state in the best of circumstances.

“Thank you, Vorsaile. Just show us where to sign and we will be gone.”

Hi mom,

I know it's been a while since we last talked. I'm sorry, I got really busy. The Scions had me running all across the world (and even other worlds! I didn’t even know those were a thing!), and it’s just been really hard to set aside time to write. I also learned to swim, so carrying around something to write on has been a bit tough to do.

I hope you’d be proud of me though. I’ve gotten to help so many people while I’ve been out here in Eorzea, and I even helped stop the Garleans from taking over the continent like they did back home.

I also met a guy. I think you’d really love him. He’s everything I ever wanted in a partner. He’s strong, he’s charming, he knows how to pick me up when I’m having a bad day (and when to just let me be alone)… He protects me, even when I don’t realize I need protecting. Really, he looks out for me better than I do most of the time. I know you’d be happy about that.

We got married a couple months ago. I wish you could have seen it, it was a beautiful day. All our friends were there, and everyone looked so beautiful, and just full of joy. We got married in a chapel hidden away in the forests of Gridania, where a bunch of Miqo’te like us live. They call it the Black Shroud, it’s a beautiful forest. It was one of the best days of my life, and I was happy I got to share it with all of them as well.

I haven’t gone to visit home yet. I don’t know if I ever will, to be honest. I don’t know if there’s anything left there for me anymore. I know dad’s gone at least, though. I was glad to hear that news. I’ve got his gunblade now, one of the Scions brought it back for me. I think I’m going to try taking up gunbreaking, maybe I can make the thing finally do some good for the world.

I miss you.

Serra

Sara Jameston wiped a tear from her eye as she set down her pen on the desk. She’d been putting off writing the letter for moons, expecting exactly this reaction, and yet she still wasn’t entirely prepared for the sense of loss, of finality, that signing her name at the bottom of the page gave it.

Her mother would never read the letter. It wouldn’t even see the hands of a postmoogle (unless you counted Sara, with the Postmaster title she’d been bestowed). Sara would keep it tucked into the breast pocket of her jacket, right next to where all that was left of her mother resided. And that would have to be enough.

In the time since their “reconciliation”, the two individuals making up Wynne Fhey had discovered quite a bit. How to speak to each other. How to call each other up when they sank to the depths of their subconscious. How one or the other of them could take charge of their body, and how to smoothly hand off control. A new philosophy for Wynne, which she’d been diligently putting into practice, and a name for Pitch, which she couldn’t stop saying for a full week after she found it.

All these discoveries they shared, not just because of their inherent closeness, but because their memory was one of the parts of them that hadn’t fully splintered in two that day in the snow. Whatever one of them lived, the other could pull up and review with only a bit of effort, like pushing through a sheet of paper.

Which is all to say that when Wynne awoke from a period of dormancy, cast her mind back over the past several hours, and found herself meeting active resistance, she immediately suspected Pitch was up to something.

“Mrgh. Pitch. What’s going on with–”

“Ahaha, heeey there!” Pitch sat up from her workbench and hurriedly fixed their body’s eyes on an empty patch of wall. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting you back for a bell or so. Is… everything good? How are you?”

“Curious why you’re blocking me out of everything that happened since I drifted off this morning,” said Wynne.

“Oh, thaaat. Right. It’s not important. Don’t worry about it.” Wynne felt Pitch flatten their ears against their head and shuffle their feet awkwardly, presenting a magnificently half-baked show of sincerity to the empty workshop in the back of the Rising Stones.

“I think I can decide for myself if it’s important or not. And clearly it’s important enough for you to have figured out how to do this. I’m kind of impressed, actually.”

“You–” That caught Pitch off-guard enough for her to perk their ears again. “Look, really, just– go back to sleep, okay? You’ve been working hard lately. I think you need a bit more rest.”

“You know I can’t just do that whenever I want. And I’m feeling plenty energetic, thank you. What have you been doing?”

“Just… maintenance stuff, you know! Keeping our sword oiled and all. Figured I’d save you the trouble.” Her gaze involuntarily flicked over to their greatsword, still laying untouched exactly where it had been that morning.

“Pitch.”

“Hey, really, can we just drop this please? It’s really not important–”

Wynne pushed a little harder on the wall separating their memories. With some effort, she could pick up faint snatches, and from there a web of context began to unfurl; Pitch had come to this room earlier after accomplishing something, with a plan to do something, feeling overwhelmingly pleased with herself, carrying an armful of–

“STOP.”

Wynne flinched hard enough that their body staggered back a pace. She hadn’t heard that kind of steely anger in Pitch’s voice since… the day they’d met properly.

“I’m trying to be diplomatic about this,” Pitch continued, “but if you’re just going to barge in and–” She stopped and took a breath. “Look, I know you’re curious. Worried, too, probably. I know I don’t exactly have the best track record with being, you know, ‘in charge’. But I…” She shook her head. “If we’re going to be together long-term, not just as Wynne Fhey but as us, I– I need some accomodations in here, alright?” She paused again, taking a much deeper breath.

“I need to be able to keep secrets from you. And I need you to trust me enough that it’s not a problem when I do that.”

Wynne took a moment to respond, feeling their tail swish in agitation. “…Why?”

Pitch immediately continued, “Because I just spent the worst winter of our life thinking I was you and I’m still desperately trying to figure out who I am, and I can’t do that if you’re watching over my shoulder constantly and injecting your thoughts into everything I do!”

The two of them realized Pitch had started shouting aloud. She leaned against the workbench and took a moment to get their breathing back under control.

“Please. I understand your concern. But please just let me keep my silence. On this and whatever other petty bullshit I need to.”

Wynne sat there for a moment. “This…secret project of yours… There’s no risk it’ll hurt us, right?”

“No, of course it’s not going to hurt us. Or anyone else. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Pitch glanced at the floor. “Not again.”

“Then I suppose I don’t need to know.” Wynne felt control of their body shift back to her, but made no effort to look away from the floor. “…I’m sorry.”

“Ah, whatever,” said Pitch. “There were always gonna be growing pains. Don’t worry about it.” Another pause. “…Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a bit longer.

“…Aargh, but now I’m really curious!” said Wynne.

“If all goes well, I’ll tell you in a week or so,” said Pitch.

“A week!? The anticipation’s gonna kill me! How am I supposed to focus?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find something to distract you. Like our job.”

The cramped workshop filled with laughter, and Tataru decided not to check in on them after all.