#parent week

She shouldn’t have worried about dead relatives. She is, however, right to be worried. At this very moment, Teo Shuqi is barreling into the small town of Qujing on a sputtering motorcycle followed by a swarm of crawlies—moths, crickets, lizards, the odd spider—and a very attentive, very ragged old mutt. Six days ago a panicked member of the local government had dropped several desperate messages into her Wechat inbox, and four days ago a local boy had lost his legs in his sleep. In the attached photo, the flash from his father’s flip phone glints off a pair of drooping eyes in the wall.

The messenger accosts her just as the setting sun disappears beneath the distant hills. It had arrived in the middle of the exorcism, and makes its presence known as Shuqi stomps through the nearby parking lot armed with a kerosene can, a shovel, and a lighter.

“Not now, good brother. I have someone else to help,” she says, with the forced cheeriness of a retail employee during the festive season. Her coastal accent wraps around her words and chokes the life out of them, but the messenger doesn’t seem to notice. It stays silent as she begins to dig. It grows quieter still as she breaks the brittle, rotting bones, crushes the remains underfoot and scrapes the mess unceremoniously into a metal trash can. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll get to you later–what do you even want?” 

It kneels by her side, and in the curling rasp of its answer Shuqi picks out a name, a curse, and a direction. Before the apparition is even done speaking she’s running back into town, away from the small bonfire she’d created. When she hops onto her bike she’s swearing to the heavens, to the earth, to God and gods and daughters and sons and the very lowermost level of hell. The messenger seems to sigh faintly as the moped and the dog disappear down a dirt road that narrows to an infinitely distant point.

She makes it here eventually.

In her heels, Tatsumi stands over six feet tall, and Iwaichi lurks behind her at about 5’8”. Tatsumi is impeccably dressed, projecting just the image she would like. There are many forms Tatsumi would consider herself (and sometimes himself), but this one is the most Tatsumi, which is a name and form she’s grown rather fond of, being the one she mothered Emi in. Her skin is pale, and her hair is black, tied back in a sleek low ponytail that hangs down to graze the tops of her thighs. Makeup is minimal besides a sharp cat’s eye and a bright red lip. The contour is natural, she is an effortlessly beautiful woman, one that might be intimidating to talk to if she didn’t always approach people and talk to them first. The suit she’s wearing is perfectly tailored, the same colour as her lipstick, blazer accentuating her trim waist, trousers ending just above the ankle. She clearly isn’t wearing a shirt under the blazer, a large portion of collarbone and sternum exposed, allowed by her high-fashion small bust size. Over her shoulders, a large black coat hangs like a cloak, down to her knees, never being dislodged despite being unfastened. On her hands, fitted black leather gloves, and on her feet, black pumps. A black choker elongates her neck and over her eyes are large black sunglasses. She isn’t carrying a bag.

Iwaichi, on the other hand, is just like some regular 38 year old human guy. His usually messy brown hair is sticking out of a warm winter hat, and he’s huddled in a dark coloured parka, because it’s goddamn cold and he isn’t some powerful ancient fox spirit who can walk around with no shirt on in this weather. He’s good looking enough, just a regular kind of cute guy, with the kind of wide smile that squeezes his eyes closed. Not that he’s smiling now of course. The resemblance to Ai is obvious enough that it would be easy to tell they’re related. He’s got a big backpack on, like he’s going hiking or something, because he doesn’t really know what to expect and it pays to be prepared, okay?

While Tatsumi is a powerful ancient spirit, really not worth messing around with, Iwaichi is just a human. He was pretty scrappy as a kid, so he might be able to like, win in a fistfight against another normie, but otherwise will be under the semi-attentive protection of Tatsumi. He’ll be polite and friendly, y’know, like Ai, but will give off less of a superior air than Ai does, and might be a bit wigged out about some of the fuckier shit that goes on at Wollstonecraft. Tatsumi will be fun and friendly, chatty and flirty towards the adults, doting and motherly towards the kids. (She’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool mom.)

Iwaichi’s wearing a slightly different iteration of what he wore yesterday, without the parka. Just a nice grey pullover over a button up shirt, a scarf, a hat, some dark jeans, some shoes. Pretty standard fare.

Tatsumi is dressed a little more casually today, in a tight black pencil skirt and a deep red blouse. The blouse is unbuttoned a good way down (hoe but then make it fashion), and tucked into the skirt, a black belt glinting at her waist. Opaque black stockings cover her legs, and on top of everything, a generous sandy-coloured fur coat. Pearl earrings adorn her ears, long black velvet gloves her hands, and black Mary Janes her feet. Her hair is in a loose braid, draped over the left shoulder to cascade down her front.

Mac scratches at the dog's neck happily. "Good boy," he says, in that baby talk you use with dogs. "You're a good boy, aren't you?" While Shuqi takes off after Aud, Val too kneels by the dog. Just to take care of him while his owner's not around, you see.