The water surrounded her, cradling her.  Comforting.  Warm.  Not warm enough.  She turned up the heat.  Better.  A few moments later she had to turn it up.  Then again.  Higher, higher.  The heat went as far up as it could and she still wasn’t satisfied.  It would have to do.

There were strange marks on her arms.  Webs of red lines crisscrossing her skin.  She scrubbed at them.  They only clarified.  Panicked, she ran the hot water over her arms.  They deepened still more.

She turned the heat off.  Ice cold water flowed over her body.  In agony, she screamed.

--

Another elemental growing into her power.  She's not Water though, but Fire -- which explains why the heat of the water will never satisfy her, and why the cold water is so painful.  She needs fire.

I, too, take showers where I turn the heat up and up and up until I feel I will scald if I go any higher (I can't make it as far as this elemental can). One night Corby sat on my bathroom counter leaning against the mirror and told me this story (in more than 100 words). He tells this type of story so well that I feel it. I become them. I became the girl scrubbing at her arms and panicking when the Marks don't go away.

It was surreal. Experiences with Corby usually are.