My attempt at writing Toph. Enjoy.
"She's beautiful," they all say, their voices hushed and soft. They tell me what she looks like, the shade of her hair and her eyes, the few things I didn't know about her.
I already knew how beautiful she was, the curve of her nose and the way she curled her fingers into her small palms, and I had her thin hair already memorized.
"She's beautiful," Katara tells me, and I can tell from her tone, from her gentle words, that she felt bad for me, but she couldn't emphasize. She could see all of her children, watch them grow up, and although I knew my daughter by the curves of her face and her wisps of hair and the mannerisms I'd already picked up, I would never really know her.
"I know," I murmured, pressing my cheek against hers, a sigh escaping my lips.
I could try.