But some items they didn't have to drag into the sewers. Some items were<em>thrown</em>into the sewers, because of one or another reason..<br/>One of these was Nimah. Sand brown skin, soft and exciting, that seemed to have a sort of reddish glow, flexible and slim body, strangely long palms and fingers that were moving daintily, a noble face that could equally be a man's just like a female's, tall figure, taller than an average male's and stronger than an average woman's. Hair is dark brown, almost black and in heavy waves, its touch must had been raugh.<br/><br/>This was Nimah. A wounded fairy, a deadly tired wanderer, dark butterfly. Only her blue eyes were glittering sometimes, when she passed a humble torch by, smelling with firm scent of petroleum or something similar. Her eyes were beautiful but red, inflamed almost everywhere except her pupils, just like the only thing she was doing in her past life was crying. She was nothing but a groping-stumbling ghost in this forever land of shadows, a lost child with twenty eight years behind her, dirty in her dirty and plain long linen outfit. Even her rumpled hair seemed to dress her better than her clothes, though they covered almost her full body.<br/>She was silent. Listening.<br/>This was Nimah.<br/>