A striking sense of familiarity unnerves the pair, but with all of their foggy memories it seemed as if it should not be important. And yet somehow it does, impossibly, both of them are stricken with a very definite sense of something known, something familiar, something wrong.

[color=navy][i]We've been here before.[/i][/color]

Neither know how this can be possible and neither know how they know it. But both sense that it is an undeniable [i]fact[/i], as surely as the two of them are alive in that chamber at that very moment. But what of it? Why does this sense that they have trodden the sand in this pyramid before stand out as so important? Memories, at least specific ones, of this place don't bubble up to the surface of cognition, and yet they know in their very cores that this is certainly not their first time being in the chamber. Is the broken pillar evidence of, perhaps, a previous fight they took part in? What of the unmistakable skeleton of a dragon below, which both regard with the strangest sense of [i]grief[/i]? Of sorrow, of mourning, of regret?

The brassy-copper dragon shakes his head as if to dispel the unbidden pain and the thoughts that accompany it. There is no reason he should feel sorrow over a nameless dragon's remains, certainly not when he can't remember any specific or clear faces or names to put to the corpse. And so he resigns himself to casting his emerald gaze about the impossibly-lit tomb, analyzing everything from the lay of the land, to potential cover, to checking to see how high he can get away with flying. A black scarab skitters from the dragon's position and crawls up a broken pillar nearby; the beast seems to pay it no mind, neither a glance nor a snort. For what reason, of course, would a mighty dragon have to grace a mere insect with its attention?

The reality is far from this appearance, however. Opting for stealth, cover, trickery, a shapeshifter's first impulse would normally be to find some mighty beast to lurk and then strike from shadows- a wild cat, perhaps, or a lethally venomous serpent. But no, with the distraction that is his soul-bound partner, best friend, brother in arms, he can afford to hang back, as it were, and enter battle at his leisure. Nobody can have any reason to suspect that anything other than the obvious dragon in front of them is their enemy, a mighty beast of legend that looks perfectly at home in the aesthetics of ancient Egypt: dazzling metallic copper-brass scales matching the bronze and gold coloration normally associated with this place.

Indeed, one who has no experience with the dragon and his master, and their tactics employed, might think the dragon is a guardian, a safeguard against grave-robbers or perhaps just a wandering beast that chose the treasure-laden pyramid as its roost. For dragons have a distinct reputation of being lovers of treasure- gold, jewels, precious statues- perhaps this one thinks to claim the chamber in which it stands as its lair, and will fend off intruders with tooth and flame so that it might keep whatever secrets and hidden glories that the famed civilization chose to bury in their ruins?

In reality Mimring has no such interest in things such as these, and only stands vigil to his master who is lying in wait on the side of a broken pillar. But if this image suits Jason, he will gladly play the role of an Egyptian guardian, and woe be to the enemy who is lulled into false security by the enemy being such an obvious, large target.

A static hum crackles through the air as Mimring's scales bristle in anticipation, their sharp edges making him appear larger, perhaps spiked.

[color=#CD7F32][i]We have come this far. There is no sense in losing our momentum now.[/i][/color]