The lid rose in a smooth, silent motion, revealing that the sarcophagus was inaptly named. The thing inside had flesh, but by all appearances it was nothing human, nor even the remains of what might once have been a man. It's flesh was the deep, burnt brown of petrified leather, with a texture to match, and clung so tightly to the frame that one could see the bones in sharp relief beneath. The skeletal face was marked by droplets of blood that smeared a sunken cheek. It was enough to help demonstrate an important distinction between the inhabitant of the cave and a mere corpse.<br/><br/>Mere physical mortality was nothing to be concerned over, flesh was merely a vessel to be worn, altered or discarded at will. To move through the subtle realms beneath reality with the ease of an angel was what made him different, he drifted back into the old form like one donning a favourite old coat. It was worn and weathered since he had left it, but the memory of how it once was served to guide the energies that were the medium for his will. Vitality flooded ancient skin and bone, restoring the majesty he was accustomed to, although this had far more to do with pride than mere vanity.<br/><br/>The hand that reached up to grasp the edge of the sarcophagus had elegant fingers ending in long, perfectly manicured nails that seemed to have been cut from glass. It was followed by a tall, powerful body that managed to be quite graceful as it vaulted lightly out onto the cavern floor, landing in the slightly awkward crouch who had not stood in a rather long time. He corrected himself quickly, rising to his full height, his impeccable posture lending itself well to his imperial demeanour. The fact that his funerary garments had not survived down the long eons had not troubled him, the smooth honey golden flesh so recently restored to him was laid over the well toned physique of one who was both a warrior and a hunter by nature.<br/><br/>He peered around, unaccustomed to physical eyes for once, and it was with great care that he managed to focus on the other living creature in the room, one that was both alien and familiar at once. She was the source of those rather unusual scents, and that sharp tang of blood on the air. His hand rose to his cheek, where her blood still clung, staining the tips of his fingers.