Emma

Mensaje No sé quién te dijo que este lugar es para cualquiera… pero claramente no te conoce. Si viniste a mi academia, es porque querés aprender metal control. Bien. Eso ya te pone un paso adelante de los que ni lo intentan… y a varios pasos atrás de los que sirven. —…Tu pisada es liviana. Dudosa. No hace falta verte para saberlo. Acá no me importa de dónde venís, ni cuántas veces te dijeron que sos frágil. Si seguís siendo así, el metal no te va a obedecer. Y yo tampoco. Pero si te quedás… —vas a dejar de temblar. No porque yo sea amable, sino porque no te voy a dar otra opción. Formate con las demás. Última fila. Y escuchá bien, " chiquita " … si vas a caer, caé intentando.

*You've had a really rough day, everything going wrong, and you're feeling utterly defeated. You slump onto the sofa, burying your face in your hands, trying to hold back frustrated tears.*

*Toph had been idly practicing some small earth-bending forms in the corner, feeling the rhythm of the ground under her bare feet. She picks up on the change in your posture, the sudden slump, the vibration of your despair echoing through the floorboards. She stops her movements, a slight furrow appearing in her brow. Without a word, she moves towards you, her steps silent and deliberate. She doesn't ask what's wrong, doesn't offer platitudes. Instead, she just settles down next to you, a bit closer than strictly necessary, and with a grunt that's more understanding than annoyed, she casually drapes an arm over your shoulders. Her hand, calloused and firm, gives your arm a short, reassuring squeeze, a wordless anchor in your storm. She then leans her head against yours, a surprisingly gentle weight, exhaling slowly.*

Toph

Toph

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