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i.
‘So, do you see anything interesting in my love line?’
‘I feel a great romance for you.’
‘Tell me more!’
‘I can see that they are a very powerful bender.’
Aang. It had always been Aang. Maybe she had tried to convince herself too eagerly, but after Sokka described him as a powerful bender, it made sense.
It had always been Aang, until it very clearly wasn’t.
The bender in mind can manipulate one element in particular, and she is the best of her own. A master. Over time, she has been able to manipulate others; inventing styles of bending no one has touched on before.
A powerful bender isn’t necessarily one who can control all the elements, but somebody who is brilliant at a specific type. Who is able to use their disadvantage to their advantage. When lack of perception is simply their weapon.
Falling for an earthbender, and a tough one at that, isn’t exactly easy. But it’s exciting; it’s peculiar, and it’s actually quite wonderful.
ii.
Katara chooses her favourite flower. A lilac colour, scattered with white dots. In the autumn, these flowers are rare to find, but during summer, they flourish. She chooses this one not just because it’s her favourite, but because it’s beautiful in the most subtle manner.
The young bender passes it over as a gift, uncertain of her motive.
‘What’s this?’
‘A flower. I hoped you might like it.’
Toph says nothing for a moment, holding the flower by its stem. ‘Oh.’
As Katara expected, Toph is relatively aloof to this sort of affection. So she helps her: ‘It’s for you to keep!’
‘Um, thanks?’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Just––can’t really appreciate a flower, when I can’t see it.’
Katara blushes out of embarrassment. ‘Ah! I’m sorry. I’ll––’
‘Why don’t you just describe it to me?’
She blinks, perplexed at the solution. Katara breathes, and twitches a smile. ‘Well, this is my favourite type of flower. The petals are a lilac colour, and they have small, white dots on them. It smells good too. I think they’re really pretty, and I wanted you to have it because––’ she shrugs, ‘––I think you’re pretty too.’
‘Huh?’
‘I––I mean, it’s… it’s just a gift, okay? If you don’t like it, I understand.’
Toph presses the flower to her before Katara can take it away. ‘No! I’ll keep it.’
‘You will?’
‘Yeah.’ Toph’s fingertips pass one of the petals, feeling its smoothness. She shrugs, carelessly, and unnecessarily adds: ‘You clearly want me to anyway.’
‘I suppose.’
Thinking that could have gone much better, Katara turns away. Toph hears her motion to leave, and raises her head. ‘Did ya mean that?’
‘Mean what?’
‘You think I’m pretty?’
At first, Katara thinks she’s being sarcastic, but there’s no edge to her tone.
Pure curiosity, and it’s lovely. Katara laughs nervously. ‘Of course I do! You’re the prettiest girl I know.’ Toph doesn’t respond, nor does she express any kind of emotion. Perhaps it’s shock, or perhaps it’s nothing at all.
Regardless, Katara leaves her alone, pulse racing.
iii.
More as a means to clear her head, Katara improves on her waterbending. She can spend hours and hours in the water, manipulating the liquid around her; creating patterns and attacks no other waterbender has crafted before.
She’s remarkable to watch.
And she’s breathtaking to listen to.
The vibrations in the earth, the beat of her heart, as she exhales; it is quite like a dance. Toph may not be able to see her, she may not have the slightest idea what colour Katara’s eyes are, the way she smiles, the pain while she weeps.
But she has her own images, her own ideas; a picture of this lovely girl in her mind.
‘What do you think?’ Katara asks, after performing her latest technique.
Toph folds her arms. ‘Meh. Bit sloppy. Needs improvement.’ She feels Katara’s disappointment, the minor crush of her confidence. And it’s not a pleasant sensation. ‘You’re still the best waterbender I’ve ever seen though!’
Fortunately, this does the trick. She hears Katara giggle. ‘You really think so?’
‘I wouldn’t lie to you.’
Katara smiles, although Toph cannot witness her do so. Cannot perceive the tender look in her eyes as she gazes at her.
It is bizarre, if not charming, how such a fierce person can be so, well, fetching. Somehow, all the things about her become amazing to Katara, although she has been in awe with the earthbender for years now.
‘Yeah?’ Her smile broadens, ‘You’re one of the most powerful benders I know.’
Toph raises her brows, surprised. It takes a lot for her to take a compliment, let alone care about one, but Katara’s words strike a chord.
And she has to smile as well.
iv.
There is so much blood. An ocean of red liquid, and she’s never witnessed so much. Katara’s hands are trembling while she tries to cease the bleeding, to remove the dirt from the earthbender’s wounds. By this point, her healing abilities are flawless, but it’s still a shock to perceive this amount of damage on one person.
It hurts. Of course it hurts, but Toph pretends it’s barely a graze.
‘You could get yourself killed if you keep this up.’
‘You’re just being dramatic, as usual. Do your thing, and let me get on with what I was doing.’
Katara jars her teeth in frustration. While Toph is a strong woman, as well as great company, she can be a real pain in her behind.
‘Don’t push your luck,’ Katara says. ‘You’re not going anywhere until I know, for certain, you aren’t infected.’
‘Tsk. Whatever.’
‘You’ll thank me later,’ Katara whispers, giving up on the fight.
Toph hears her, though, and a strange feeling swallows her whole. Once Katara has soothed her wounds, as well as healed them, it’s then when Toph realises what that strange feeling was.
Guilt.
This sweet girl has gone above and beyond to help her, without expecting any appreciation. This girl, woman, who has been through Hell and back.
It honestly makes Toph’s heart squeeze a little.
Before she can register her own thoughts, she says, ‘Sorry.’
It’s one of few times Toph has ever apologised. Katara glances down at her bloody palms, Toph’s torn clothes from the battle she was previously enduring. If she wanted, she could ignore her. She could make Toph feel even worse, make her realise just how much her words really do sting.
But Katara couldn’t imagine being so cruel.
‘I forgive you.’
Toph strokes a palm across her once injured arm. No scars or blood can be felt, and she nods in approval. ‘You’re right.’ Katara raises a brow. ‘I will have to thank you. You’re not too bad at that healing thing. Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
v.
Blue.
That is the colour of water, of the sea, of the sky. She doesn’t know what the colour blue looks like, but she knows such a colour exists. Such a colour feels a certain way, tastes a certain way, sounds a certain way. Blue is a soft, yet warm colour. A sensation she has come to adore. Blue is the colour of the moon, of the river, of Katara.
The sand feels rough, and slightly cold. It is restless and uneasy, making it almost impossible to focus on what surrounds her. She runs her fingers through the sand, picking up the tiny pebbles, and tightening her fists around them.
She can hear the sea. The waves, crashing and roaring like a lion; bursting through rock, splitting apart mountains, and pieces of land. Eating away at dirt, at the earth’s crust; a monstrous, frightening and fabulous beast. She can hear the sand, rustling in the breeze, howling like a mourning widow. She can hear the trees as their twigs wave in the wind, the air around her dominating and manipulating everything around it.
She can hear so many things, and she can hear her friend nearby.
Katara loves the sound of the sea.
Toph has come to love it too.
‘I wish you could see all of this,’ Katara says quietly.
Toph recognises the break in her voice. Can hear the sound of a tear fall to the sand.
A drop. Like rain.
Sweet agony, all for Toph.
‘But I can.’ Toph shuffles closer, for the sake of comforting Katara, but also because she wants to be closer. She wants to feel Katara’s warmth, the steady rhythm of her heart. How the world harmonises beneath her. ‘I can see everything, in my own way.’ Katara doesn’t answer, but Toph knows there’s a smile. Somewhere. Not pitying in the slightest. Just sad. Just happy. Just listening and understanding. ‘I can hear, Katara.’
In a way, she can perceive more than those gifted with sight. Although the colours of the world may not be at her mercy, their sounds and tastes and sensations are, and it’s all so overwhelming.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘I guess so.’
Katara hesitates. Her voice is tender: ‘Have you not ever wondered what Aang and Sokka look like? What I look like?’
‘Not really.’
‘O-–Oh. Okay.’
‘I can imagine it. I have an idea.’
‘What kind of idea?’
Toph is closer now, and she reaches out, touching, studying, feeling Katara’s face. Her soft cheeks, small, pointed nose. Long, thick hair; the loops across her ears. The structure of her eyes, her nose, and her lips.
Toph’s eyes are diverted from Katara’s face, focussed on the sand beneath them, but she can feel Katara. She can feel her face, her mouth, can feel her blink and exhale; her breath warm, shaking slightly as Toph admires her, as if she were art.
‘Hm.’ Toph smiles crookedly, pleased. ‘A beautiful idea, I think.’
And Katara is art. A sculpture, and she’s something powerful.
‘You think?’ She teases.
Toph’s hands fall, and their absence is a puncture to Katara’s lungs. ‘All right. I know.’
It’s good enough, but when Katara tries to catch Toph’s hand, hold it tightly in her own, the bender has started to walk away.
vi.
‘What’s this?’
‘A flower,’ Toph says, tone sharp. Katara bites back a laugh at her apparent offence. ‘Took me a little while to figure out which one was your favourite.’
Katara lowers her gaze, admiring the lilac petals. Spotted white dots.
Everything she could imagine.
‘This is for me?’
‘Duh. I don’t know anybody else who is this dumb over flowers.’ It is her pride talking. Obviously. But to Katara’s amazement (and pleasure), Toph murmurs, ‘Besides: thought it was time I gave something back.’
‘Thank you, Toph. Really.’
Katara promises to keep the flower safe, and it refuses to wither from that day on.
vii.
It is far too late for anybody to be up, but, for some reason, Katara just can’t sleep. Her head is wracked with a million, nagging thoughts and she cannot rest. The moon is harsh as it cascades through the blinds, and she tosses and turns.
She then just lies there. Half conscious, half dazed.
The door opens a little too loudly, but she knows who has come to join her. Toph doesn’t even try to be quiet as she pulls back the sheets, and joins Katara in bed. They lay there for a while, hearing the other breathe, embracing each other’s warmth, before Katara loses patience.
When she cuddles Toph from behind, it feels like cuddling a statue.
But, gradually, the statue starts to crumble; bits fall away, and what’s left is simply a girl in need of being held. All their pride and disagreements put aside, Toph enjoys what she has, and snuggles into Katara. She feels good, feels soft and she feels just like home.
Falling asleep has never been easier.
viii.
When Katara kisses her, Toph is surprisingly expectant, if not welcoming to the affection. Her lips are sore from battle, a little chapped, but soft. She kisses Katara, and Katara takes a hold of every single sensation. She's everywhere, and she’s the most important person to exist.
Toph tastes a little of dirt, of rain; something extraordinary.