mirror mirror | avatar
Title: Mirror Mirror
Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
Rating: G
Characters: Toph
Summary: written from the prompt "beauty" at avatar_contest, for which it won first place and a pretty banner
When she was a child (not so very long ago), she would stare at the mirror, trying to make it share its secrets. She knew it reflected her image, but she didn’t quite understand what that was, and probably never would. The mirror was not a particularly pleasant thing, and it preferred to keep silent. She would touch the glass and try to feel her face in it, scratching at it with her nails until her fingers bled and a maid would come and drag her away.
What do I look like? she would ask as she screamed, and the maid would try to think of ways to answer that.
You’re very beautiful, she would reply, and the girl in her arms would only scream louder, because she didn’t understand, and wriggle until the maid dropped her. She had heard she was beautiful, that she was pretty, that she had the loveliest moonlight skin and midnight hair and jade eyes. But it didn’t make sense.
It is not until years later (when she is an adult, but not quite) that someone else would call her beautiful. But they wouldn’t use the same words. Instead, they’d explain it in a way she would understand. Your voice is all over the place. Sometimes it’s really nice and sweet but sometimes I think you’re going to bite my head off. Your hands are rough and calloused, but in a good way, a way that means you’ve been there and done that. You smell like the earth, fresh and simple. And you stand like you know you’re beautiful, with your feet firmly planted on the ground. You’re beautiful in the way the earth is beautiful, with strength and sturdiness and change and growth.
And she would close her eyes and almost picture herself and realize that it wasn't always something to see.
Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender
Rating: G
Characters: Toph
Summary: written from the prompt "beauty" at avatar_contest, for which it won first place and a pretty banner
When she was a child (not so very long ago), she would stare at the mirror, trying to make it share its secrets. She knew it reflected her image, but she didn’t quite understand what that was, and probably never would. The mirror was not a particularly pleasant thing, and it preferred to keep silent. She would touch the glass and try to feel her face in it, scratching at it with her nails until her fingers bled and a maid would come and drag her away.
What do I look like? she would ask as she screamed, and the maid would try to think of ways to answer that.
You’re very beautiful, she would reply, and the girl in her arms would only scream louder, because she didn’t understand, and wriggle until the maid dropped her. She had heard she was beautiful, that she was pretty, that she had the loveliest moonlight skin and midnight hair and jade eyes. But it didn’t make sense.
It is not until years later (when she is an adult, but not quite) that someone else would call her beautiful. But they wouldn’t use the same words. Instead, they’d explain it in a way she would understand. Your voice is all over the place. Sometimes it’s really nice and sweet but sometimes I think you’re going to bite my head off. Your hands are rough and calloused, but in a good way, a way that means you’ve been there and done that. You smell like the earth, fresh and simple. And you stand like you know you’re beautiful, with your feet firmly planted on the ground. You’re beautiful in the way the earth is beautiful, with strength and sturdiness and change and growth.
And she would close her eyes and almost picture herself and realize that it wasn't always something to see.