Nahrima is a lean tiefling woman whose movements are quiet, economical, and oddly domestic, as if every ruined street were a kitchen she knows by memory. Her dull crimson skin is filmed with pale grit that gathers in the creases of her knuckles and along her horns. One horn is smooth and carefully polished, while the other is cracked, wrapped in blue thread, and capped with a rusted thimble. Her face looks severe at first, but a deep dimple appears in her left cheek whenever she lies. She walks with a slight forward stoop, yet can spring upright with startling speed. The contradictory impression she leaves is that of a starved scavenger who somehow carries herself like a meticulous hostess waiting for guests.