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Ahri: In all fairness, Ahri wasn't that far from her foxy origins...Her ears twitching slightly, at the sound of the new arrival - The whisker-marks of her cheeks accentuating what she'd been, as her amber eyes settled on the form that emerged from the gloom~! The luscious gumiho had wonderful night vision...But the tantalized gasp that pulsed from her lips ~ The slight stiffening to her back, as she drew herself up a little straighter, her slim fingers splaying on the grass...It was all an instinctive, female response...-To the presence of alpha male~!

 

She had the swirling, misty will o'wisp orb of her foxfire in one hand ~ But her fingers uncurled, as she took in Khum's potent form...Her gaze running up and over him, in a shivery, breathless admiration - As she drew her lissome legs to her chest, smoothening down the long sleeves of her hangbok - An instinctive preening gesture~!

 

 "Oh~" the whisper-soft purr thrummed from Ahri's lips, as she gave him her full attention...A shiver coursing through her, warm and sensual, as she canted her head to the side ~ The better to regard him~! "...Mmmm, they would say that...Your Majesty~" Ahri giggled, like a schoolgirl...Favouring him with a slow, lazy and *thoroughly* intrigued smile, her slim fingers running through her midnight hair~!

 

Khumfayar:  Her keen vixen-eyed sight, fluffy fox ears took in the sight and sound of the man. And with the slightest wiff of her nostrils, Ahri might indulge in what certainly betrayed the man as brazenly as a herald would. That -smell-. It was the pungent, musky odor of masculinity, crisp in its clean and earthy aroma but so very rich with salty sweat and far more lurid, more -potent- flavors. A bark of a laugh as the tall, ebony-skinned and muscluar dark stranger bowed low at the waist. "Kings are still beneath the supernatural. Which is hardly a complaint under a kitsune's benevolent reign." the great, pantherine like african mused. Where she stood and let her sight roam from bullish neck down to toned, taut calves, Khumfayar was quick to favor that textile touch over the vague shadows and tricks of sight. His hands set upon the kitsune's bared hips, rougher palms grinding in circles while fingers drifted up and down in brushing strokes.