Water

She drifted through the room, gorgeous, shining. Her long hair cascaded down her back, rippling in the light from the candles. Daring the flames to near her. Her head held high, she wandered the crowd, dress flowing behind her.

She was a commanding presence. Unapologetic, alluring, soft.

Men were drawn to her as if dazed and parched, and she their sole libation.

She paid them no mind, and instead slid through the party like a snake on the hunt. Her skin glistened and her neck dripped with jewels. Spoils, no doubt. She could be ruthless.

And still, she charmed. A smile there, a sigh here. She'd come near you and run a hand over your arm, or touch a silky finger to your lips. By the time you'd think of something to say, she'd have turned away and let out a sparkling laugh.

Everyone adored her, but few risked approaching her. You could smell the fear radiating off the party guests, the anticipation. Just one wrong word, and she'd overflow with rage. It's been said that she could defeat any man, no matter his size, with a longsword and one arm held behind her back. No one dared put that rumor to the test.

And so she floated, calm, through the crowd. Untouched, unbothered, and the most deadly and beautiful thing you've ever seen.