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The Rakshasi borough was unlike any other place in Ionia, a beautiful reminder of what was once common in the First Lands. No stone or mortar were used in the building of Rakshasi houses, every one of its dwellings carved into a thick tree trunk or woven from stray branches high above the ground. The city was built in layers, and one needed to be light on their feet to avoid falling off one of the many narrow treepaths. The Lholtan tribe moved about their homeland with feylike grace, but humans struggled here, and perhaps that was why none of the factions that were given a voice at this vastayan gathering sent a human ambassador.
Ahri hardly cared for politics, but being a vastaya herself, she wished to see what was to become of her people. With the scars of war still marking the land, she hoped to see peace, renewal, so that the memories she devoured could become diverse again, joyous and exciting. She grew weary of seeing blood and misery everywhere.
What she did not grow weary of seeing, however, were yordles. Male yordles, especially. There weren't a great many of them present in Rakshasi; the Kinkou sent one as their voice and another showed up to represent himself and the ancient tenets of Bandle magic. Ahri spotted no others so far, and so she stalked those two like a playful fox, hidding between bushy branches as they mingled and explored the vastayan holdout. After all the great speeches of war and delegation debates were over, her task became much easier; her little morsels took interest in one another, consorting near the feather effigy dedicated to the Sky Mother. Ahri nested in its crown and listened in to their talks, her ears flicking with anticipation.
„You must be ancient,“ the Kinkou emissary noted; his dark robes were familiar to Ahri, and she could've sworn she saw those azure eyes somewhere before - perhaps in the memories of one of her victims. He radiated power, though he kept it well in check save for the occassional spark running through his tan fur or his dark ponytail.
„Time is relative,“ his companion said, flashing his sharp fangs. Ahri shuddered as he spoke; something in his voice gave away centuries of pain and agony, all of it written in his blazing amber eyes, his gestures, the snapping of his ears. His fur was as dark as those memory echoes, and he wore only muted colors.
„Perhaps, but not from where we stand. Even you will die of old age one day, Veigar.“
„No, I don't think so,“ the dark one scoffed, „we live in a violent age, Kennen - you should know this better than anybody else. If a day comes where my magic fails to protect me, I'll undoubtedly end up with a sword in my bowels.“
Kennen folded his arms. „You sound as if you looked forward to it.“
„Perhaps I do. My soul is heavy, as you can imagine.“
The kinkou master nodded. „I taught generations of Ionia's young. I know how to tell sorrow from one's face, and yours is a mighty beast. It is unnerving.“
„Should I leave?“
„No. No, please don't.“
They turned in both step and topic, walking the rickety bridges and talking about Ionia's natural reserves of magic. Ahri followed and watched as their gestures towards one another grew warmer; Kennen liked to worry and Veigar liked attention, so they were a natural match. The emotions flowing between and around them fed the fox girl, made her feel alive, invigorated; it was pleasant, like a spring bath, and she tailed them all the way to one of the many Rakshasi forest gazebos.
„You know the Immortal Bastion,“ Kennen steered the conversation back to heavier topics once the warlock made himself comfortable on one of the cushioned benches, „knowing its layout could help us push against Noxus.“
„Wrong,“ Veigar growled, „I know what it was like in another era. I know nothing about the city that surrounds it now.“
„But perhaps—„
„Perhaps you could stop digging into painful memories and politics before my fondness for you fizzles out.“
Kennen squinted. „Are you threatening me?“
The wizard laughed. „Be assured that my threats are more creative than be nice or I'll stop liking you. No - I'm merely noting that it would be a great shame if our connection was cut now.“
Kennen huffed, pressing his furry palms together and bowing in apology. „Ishasima. I cared more for the chicken than the egg, forgetting that they must be in balance. Shen would be very unhappy with me now.“
„So I'm an egg?“ Veigar chuckled. „There's one thing I've not been called yet.“
The kinkou rested his knee against the bench just next to Veigar. „Perhaps life is still worth living for those little surprises, then.“
The warlock tugged Kennen's robes, beckoning him closer. „He Who Courses The Sun needs not worry about me. Now come - it's been a long time since I felt a yordle's fur against mine.“
„We're being watched.“
„I'm well aware.“ The warlock smiled. „If she has something to say, surely she'll come and say it sooner or later.“
Ahri blinked, taken aback by how easily she'd been spotted. Did they know about her presence the entire time? Was she that bad at stalking prey?
Not minding her company, the kinkou was drawn to the warlock's lap, kneeling above him and nuzzling into his forehead. When all that nudging and snuggling turned into a slow, cautious kiss, Ahri couldn't help herself but draw closer, leaving the safety of her hideout and finally showing herself to the yordles, long since aware of her presence. As she approached, the warlock broke the exchange and raised a clawed hand towards her, his magic surrounding her and pulling her to them whether she wanted or not. There was a devious spark in Veigar's eyes, a mischievous intent she did not dare guess.
„The nine-tailed fox,“ Kennen jumped off the cushions when Ahri at last entered the gazebo; Veigar squinted, the grin on his face boding no well. He rested back in a lazy slouch; he looked so terribly smug there, and now even more irresistible.
„I've heard tales of you. Of what you do to humans.“ The kinkou sailed between her tails, and no matter how quickly she turned, she could not catch him. „Why did you follow us?“
„I thought you could tell emotions from peoples' faces,“ Veigar teased him, „look at her - even I can tell why she can't leave us be.“
„Aha.“ Kennen faced her briefly, only to get lost in her tails again. This time he wasn't content with just that; a surge of power ran up her spine, quickly sapping her strength and throwing her down to her knees. A hand at the back of her neck forced her to lean against the cushioned bench, and she found herself with her head between the warlock's legs.
„Would you look at that,“ Veigar noted, running his claws across Ahri's cheek, „the gentle kinkou can be forceful after all.“
„Of course,“ Kennen purred; Ahri could feel him pushing her short skirt up, and she shivered in excitement. „Balance must be preserved, my friend.“
The fox lifted her tails and leaned forward, burying her face in the warlock's robes. He ran his claws through her hair, feeling her long ears; each of his strokes was rough, intense, full of want. Despite his short stature, he gave off an aura of commanding confidence, and while the kinkou ran his claws between Ahri's legs, she did her best to obey and enjoy the warlock in front of her. The fox was quick to undo his belt and robes and show him admiration bordering on worship; she caressed his black fur with both her fingers and her tongue, only stopping for a brief moment when she felt a familiar hardness press against her from behind. The yordles were toying with her, and she loved it - even more so when Kennen pushed inside her, his little barbed cock chafing her inner walls. It was a unique, amazing sensation; Ahri relished in the discomfort, moaning in pleasure and approval.
„Aren't you forgetting somebody?“ The warlock in front of her sneered, violently grabbing her hair and shoving her face against his groin. They were feisty, those two petite devils.
Having barely any focus left, Ahri was grateful when the warlock required no work on her part, instead forcing himself into her mouth and using his hold on her to pleasure himself. All she could do was slobber over him whilst Kennen abused her from behind. They were relentless, wild, mischievous; little mad spirits that trapped the fox between them and their sloppy desires. Their sweat tasted sweet and their cum sweeter; it was their little moans that brought her over the edge however, tiny bestial growls of two tomcats in heat.
After she was done shivering in her own climax, Ahri seized the opportunity to briefly become the naughty one in turn; her little furry lovers were meek now, so she pushed her hands against the warlock's knees and ran her tongue up his groin. He was still stiff, having come so recently, and too sensitive to her touch; he squirmed and protested, weak and powerless, and Ahri purred at the sight of having that small scamp try and wriggle out of her grasp. She would've continued were it not for Kennen pulling out of her all of sudden; she huffed and panted, once again reminded of the barbs - and of how much they aroused her.
„Refreshing,“ the kinkou said after he climbed up on the cushioned seat and rested his head against Veigar's shoulder, „what a shame that all guests are to be gone from Rakshasi by tomorrow.“
„Was once not enough?“ Veigar pushed the lewd fox further away from himself, only to earn himself a kiss on his clawed, plush foot. „I'm an old man.“
„You needed to have your heavy soul lifted a bit,“ Kennen leaned down to the warlock's lap, „so here - a reminder that life is worth living...“
Veigar couldn't possibly keep both of his assailants away, and Ahri was content to torment the mage with her new partner in crime. It was exciting to see him arch his back, his futile attempts to keep the two of them from toying with his cock. No, they would not stop, not until they were at last at the risk of being discovered by the local vastayans; only then would the three of them tie their robes and pull down their skirts. It was time to find a better place to continue their game...