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Sometimes Aang would indulge in the silence that swathed the pair in its grasp, shutting his eyes as the blind earthbender’s tender fingers explored the features of his face. The Avatar allowed himself only a small smile, daring not too move as he wondered how he was portrayed in Toph’s vivid thoughts.
Aang steadied his breath, focusing on the friction of calloused skin against his own, relaxing in his Sifu’s capable hands. A chuckle danced at the tip of his tongue as her fingers brushed the rise of his nose, coaxing a mild prickle to his senses.
The Avatar had never given much merit to his own youthful visage before, recalling the practice of the monks that taught of the true worth of people, existing within the fathoms of their soul, as opposed to written across the exposed canvas of their flesh.
He quelled the sudden bout of inadequacy with the knowledge that Toph’s thoughts held similar values. Sight could not gather the entire worth of a person, at least not from the eyes.
Toph grinned as her prying hands were permitted to graze the cool plane of the Avatar’s forehead, hardened where it had been pierced by the tip of a needle, its mark lingering in the traditional symbol embedded into the young boy’s lithe form.
Toph didn’t need her sight to know that he wore the traditions of the nomads with pride, bearing the weight of their memory in his stride.
The earthbender’s brow creased in concentration, the image in her mind’s eye muddled from her habit of glancing the world through her feet as opposed to the pads of her fingertips, similarly worn from the toil of bending.
She pictured the Avatar’s youthful form, coupled with a smile that betrayed his wise nature.
“You’re pretty, Twinkletoes.” The earthbender said with an impish grin, laughing as she felt heat flood her pupil’s features beneath her roving touch, earning herself a muffled, “Am not.”