Private Between The Lights

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy stood outside the restaurant, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as the Coruscanti skyline shimmered in gold and silver behind her. The city buzzed below, lights stretching like veins of fire through the dark. Above her, the rooftop terrace glowed with low lanterns and quiet music, the soft clink of cutlery and murmured conversation barely audible over the wind.

She wore a simple black dress — clean lines, sleeveless, nothing extravagant — but to her it felt like too much. The fabric hugged her form just a little too well, showed more of her shoulders than she was used to. She had stared at herself in the mirror for too long before leaving, wondering if she looked like she was trying too hard, wondering if Annie would think it was weird, too formal, too stiff, too... not her.

And worse, the thoughts had spiraled.

What if this wasn’t really a thing? What if that night — intense, beautiful, overwhelming — had been a one-time spark? What if Annie realised, after a few minutes of actual talking, that Izzy was quiet, guarded, kind of awkward, and not nearly as interesting as whatever she imagined in the dark?

She swallowed. Looked down at her hands. She hadn't worn gloves, and now her fingers felt exposed, like her whole skin was thinner here.

But then—

She saw her.

Anneliese.

And everything else melted away.

The nerves, the doubts, the self-conscious flutter in her chest—they stilled. Because Annie was walking toward her, and stars, she was beautiful. Not just in the way people meant when they said it, not surface-deep or dramatic. She was radiant. Effortlessly so. Like she belonged to the moment, like the night air bent toward her without trying.

Izzy's breath caught for a second. A thousand thoughts tried to rise, but only one made it past her lips.

"Hey," she said quietly, voice softer than she'd meant it. Almost reverent.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine
​

Anneliese saw her before Izzy saw her.

The rooftop glowed with soft lantern light, the hum of Coruscant distant and golden below. But none of it mattered — not the skyline, not the music, not the clinking glasses behind her.

Because Izzy was here.
And Anneliese could still feel her.

The memory clung like silk: the brush of Izzy's fingertips across her ribs, the slow drag of lips along her collarbone, the way breath hitched and tangled and broke between them. Skin to skin, nothing hidden, nothing held back. The quiet sounds Izzy made — gods, those sounds — still echoed through Annie's bones like a sacred refrain.

She hadn't meant to skip classes. Hadn't meant to disappear into another day wrapped around someone else's body. But the moment Izzy touched her, it hadn't felt like surrender.

It had felt like prayer.

And now, stepping into the night again — with the city watching, with her back bare to the world — she didn't hide. The bleeding crescent moon carved into her spine, once a brand of shame, was now on full display. What had once been an omen was now allure. Mystery. Power.

She wore it like jewelry. Like testimony. Like it was part of the beauty Izzy had uncovered and kissed without flinching.

Her dress — black and deep red, backless and bold — clung to her like she'd been born for it. Her hair was swept up in a loose, elegant twist, one rebellious curl brushing her jaw. But it was her eyes that gave her away.

Soft.
Hungry.
Head over heels.

She slowed when she reached Izzy. Stopped in front of her, breath catching.

And when their eyes met, everything stilled.

Anneliese smiled — that shy, devastating smile that only Izzy seemed to draw from her. Her stomach fluttered again, like the echoes of butterflies still trapped from the night before. Her voice, when it came, was low. Careful.

"Hey," she said.

But it wasn't casual.

It wasn't light.

It was full of everything they didn't say out loud. The weight of wanting. The ache of memory. The slow, unrelenting fall into something she didn't have a name for yet — only the knowledge that it was hers. That Izzy was hers, somehow. That she would wait, go slow, go still — anything Izzy needed.

But her heart had already chosen.

And it chose her. Every time.

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy saw her — really saw her — and for a second, she forgot how to breathe. Annie stepped into view like the city had parted just for her. The soft rooftop lanterns caught the glint in her hair, her bare back kissed by the lights, the black and red dress clinging to her like a secret. The world seemed to slow around her, the distant hum of Coruscant dimming into something hushed and reverent. Izzy stood still, blinking once — twice — as if making sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Stars.

She'd already known Annie was beautiful. That wasn't new. But this? This was something else. Not just beauty — presence. Fire and silk, confidence and tenderness woven together like a damn spell. Izzy's chest tightened. And just like that, her nerves came rushing back in.

Her fingers twitched at her side. She smoothed the front of her dress — simple, black, fitted close to her frame — suddenly hyper-aware of how formal it felt. Was it too much? Too stiff? Too try-hard? She wasn’t good at this kind of thing. Not the nice restaurants. Not the elegant dates with city views and tablecloths and perfectly folded napkins. She wasn’t used to feeling... visible.

But then Annie smiled.

And it all melted away.

"You look..." Izzy started, voice softer than she'd meant it. Her eyes drank in every detail. "You look beautiful."

She moved forward, close enough to smell the faint trace of Annie’s perfume beneath the evening air. Her hand rose — hesitant for only a moment — then settled at her waist. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips curving into a smile as she did.

"Come on," she murmured. "Let’s head in."

The restaurant was stunning. Elegant without being ostentatious, softly lit with long panoramic windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city’s shimmering skyline. Lights stretched across Coruscant like a galaxy inverted — stars below instead of above. The kind of view people paid a fortune to see. The kind of place Izzy had never even considered stepping into before.

A host led them through with polite formality, guiding them to a private table tucked along the terrace edge. It was small, circular, draped in ivory cloth with delicate gold-rimmed settings. A candle flickered between them, its flame swaying in rhythm with the distant city winds.

Izzy sat down slowly, her eyes trailing across the horizon before settling back on Annie. There was a strange quiet between them — not awkward, exactly. Just… cautious. Like neither of them wanted to shatter the spell that had formed between night and morning.

The menu arrived, full of dishes she didn’t recognise, let alone know how to pronounce. Izzy flipped through it once, then again, frowning slightly as her brow furrowed. Everything looked beautiful. Delicate. Expensive. She had no idea what she was doing.

After a long beat, she let out a small breath of laughter, sheepish and real.

"I’ve... never been to a place like this," she admitted, lowering the menu a little.

"Its uh... a bit overwhelming, honestly," she chuckled awkwardly. "Uh... What are you thinking?"

She tilted her head, looking at Annie with a quiet sort of wonder — still flustered, still awed, but grounded now by the warmth between them. It wasn’t about the view, or the dress, or the candles.

It was that she was here.

And Annie was across the table.

And that alone made it the most beautiful place Izzy had ever been.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine​

Annie didn't answer right away.

She stood in one fluid motion — graceful, deliberate — and moved around the table with a kind of slow confidence that turned every head in the room. Not because she was trying to be seen. No — it was because she wasn't trying at all. The open-backed dress whispered at her skin with every step, black and red catching candlelight like embers coaxed to life. Her bare shoulders were strong, steady, kissed by gold. But it was her eyes — the way they never left Izzy — that carried the real weight.

When she reached her, Annie didn't ask. She didn't hesitate. She pulled the chair beside Izzy, slid it close until their arms nearly brushed, and sat — not across from her like a date, but beside her like a secret. Like something claimed.

Not rushed. Not loud.
But certain.

The menu sat untouched. Irrelevant. Annie didn't even glance at it. Her focus was entirely on Izzy now — eyes tracing the lines of her cheek, the nervous curve of her lips, the way she held herself like someone both bracing and blooming.

And stars, that black dress — so simple, so her, and yet the way it clung made Annie's breath catch. Not because of the shape of it, but because it was Izzy inside it. Vulnerable. Bare-armed. Trying. And that effort — that visible offering — undid something in Annie.

Her voice, when it came, was low. Velvet-draped steel.

"I've definitely worked up an appetite since last night….and this morning," she murmured, eyes flicking briefly down to Izzy's lips. "Though… I don't think food's what I've been craving."

She let that hang — playful, yes, but raw under the teasing. Unpolished and real.

Then, gentler, "Don't be overwhelmed. You don't need to know the right fork or how to pronounce the wine." Her hand brushed lightly down Izzy's arm, barely there. "Just stay close."

She leaned in — closer than she needed to. Her leg pressed against Izzy's beneath the table. Her breath was warm where it touched skin, her presence something animal and unshaken. There was something old in her now, something Gurlanin — quiet, reverent, predatory. Not in hunger. In devotion.

A kind of fierce grace.

Annie finally reached for the menu, flicked it open with one hand, though her body stayed turned toward Izzy like orbit. Her other hand rested lightly on the table between them, fingers splayed — an invitation without words.

"To start — a bottle of the Corulag red," she told the server who had appeared, her tone clipped but smooth. "Mushrooms. Shimmerscallop. Something heavier after." She glanced sideways, then added, "Something we'll feel."

Then she waved the server off without even looking at him again — not unkind, just entirely uninterested. Because her world was here now.

Annie turned back to Izzy, her voice soft again. Intimate.

"Tonight isn't about the food," she said, eyes searching hers like a second language. "It's about you. About this."

Her hand moved — slow, deliberate — and settled lightly on Izzy's thigh beneath the table. Just enough to feel the warmth. The connection. The gravity.

"You don't have to perform for me. You don't have to impress anyone," she whispered. "You already do. Just… be here."

There was fire in her — that much was undeniable. The memory of last night still coiled like heat in her belly, ghosting across her skin where Izzy had touched her. Skin on skin. That sound. That ache. That joy. She could still feel the echo of it all, like it had rewired her completely.

She wanted more.
But slowly.
With reverence.

Annie leaned in again, her lips brushing just beside Izzy's ear now, and her words spilled out like a promise.

"I'm starving, Izzy," she breathed, smile curving with mischief and meaning both. "But for now, I'll feast on your company."

Then she pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes again — and gods, the way she looked at her: like the stars themselves might pale in comparison.

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy didn't know how to respond. Everything about Annie — the way she moved, the way she looked at her, the way she spoke like every word had been carved just for this moment — it was overwhelming. Not in the way that made her want to pull back, but in the way that made her lean in. That made her chest ache a little with something too new and too good to hold all at once.

She let her fingers drift toward the offered hand on the table, hesitant for half a heartbeat — then curled hers around it. Solid. Real. Warm.

Her pulse was loud in her ears. Still, she said nothing at first. What words could she even offer? What could possibly match the way Annie made her feel just by being here? The way the whole damn city seemed to vanish outside the windows, replaced by nothing but the closeness between them?

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. Honest.

"You're impossible," she said, eyes dropping to their joined hands with a small, helpless smile. "In the best way." She giggled in a way that she perhaps never had done before, then leant to kiss her once along her jaw.

And that was all she needed to say.

The wine came. The appetizers followed — delicately arranged, fragrant, steaming under soft amber light. Izzy watched the server go, then looked back at Annie and let herself breathe.

Let herself be here.

She wasn't used to nights like this. But stars, she wanted more of them. More of her.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine​

The food sat mostly untouched between them, still warm. Annie had taken maybe two bites — not because she wasn't hungry, but because she was too caught up in watching the way Izzy moved, spoke, smiled. Every detail felt precious. Every moment like something to keep.

She leaned forward slightly, her hand still folded with Izzy's across the table, thumb tracing idle lines along the ridge of her knuckles. Not fidgeting. Just… feeling. Being.

Her voice came soft, steady. "You know, I've been trying to figure you out."

Not accusatory. No pressure. Just a gentle confession, like saying she'd been watching stars move overhead and was still learning their names.

"I know how you move when you're pretending not to be afraid. I know how your voice changes when you care too much and don't want anyone to see it." She paused. "I know you sleep on your side, tucked up tight like you're bracing for impact, even when you're safe."

A breath. Not for tension, but to give space for the moment to live.

"But I don't know what your favorite color is."

Her eyes lifted to Izzy's, unwavering, full of quiet intensity. "Or if you take sugar in your caf. Or if you sing in the refresher when no one's around. I don't know if you believe in fate, or if you snore."

A slight smile pulled at the edge of her lips. Not teasing — more like wonder.

"I want to know all of it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper now. "The small things. The real things. The kind of things no one thinks to ask."

Outside, the world went on. But in here, it had narrowed to the space between them — candlelight, breath, heartbeat.

"I don't care that we did this backwards," Annie said suddenly, voice quiet but firm — not heavy, just true. "I don't care that we slept together before all the usual questions, before the rituals, the safe pacing. I would've done it again. Exactly like that."

It just them — no one else mattered.

"I want to know who you are when no one's watching," Annie said. "And I want you to know me the same way."

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy hadn’t touched much of her food either. Not for lack of appetite. But because the hunger had shifted. Annie’s words — soft, so achingly sincere — pulled at something deeper in her chest. Something old and tender and scared. Something that wanted to run, but stayed rooted instead. Because when Annie spoke like that — when she looked at her like that — Izzy couldn’t look away.

She listened in stillness.

And when the moment hung, warm and open between them, she finally spoke, voice low and roughened by quiet emotion.

"I agree," she said, fingers still brushing over the back of Annie’s hand. "I want this too."

Her thumb traced the edge of Annie’s ring finger — just once — before she exhaled through her nose and gave a small, crooked smile.

"Well let's see... I don’t take sugar," she murmured. "Just black. And lots. Like a good gut-punch."

A beat.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that I sing in the refresher." A glint of mischief crept into her silver gaze, so out of practice it seemed almost foreign on her face. She tilted her head then, considering the next question, then offered something quieter. Something almost sheepish.

" I... didn’t used to believe in fate." Her gaze lifted to meet Annie’s again.

"But lately? I don’t know..."

She paused. Let that hang. Then added, deadpan: "And no, I don’t snore."

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. The laugh didn’t come out loud — just a breath against the candlelight. But it lingered in her expression. Something open. Softened.

And then, she fell quiet again.

Not because she didn’t want to speak.

But because the way Annie was looking at her — really looking — was almost too much.

And still, Izzy didn’t look away.

Her silver eyes, so often unreadable, now shimmered with emotion. She stared at Annie like she saw right through her — not to her flaws, or scars, or anything that might have made someone else hesitate — but to the core of who she was. As if every wall she’d built had melted under Annie’s gaze and left only truth behind.

Her hand shifted, just slightly.

One fingertip trailed across Annie’s knuckles. Soft. Reverent. Her thumb brushed lightly over her palm — a motion more intimate than any kiss.

And then, her voice, barely above a whisper:

"Green."

A pause.

"My favourite colour is green."

She gazed into Annie's eyes, that wild and radiant emerald that threatened to drown her, and yet she wouldn't protest if she did. It was a gaze that melted everything that held her back, that saved her from her grief, from her worries, from her pain. Annie was perfection. The feeling terrified her. And yet, something about this all felt so... right.

Stars, what is happening to me.

Izzy looked at her like that colour meant everything.

And in that moment, maybe it did.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine​

Anneliese didn't rush. She never did when it mattered.

Her gaze stayed on Izzy — not just soft, but knowing. Like she'd already begun to chart the terrain of her and was memorizing every part that made her flinch, made her laugh, made her stay.

So she spoke the way she touched: deliberately. Without fear.

"I like cold rooms," Annie murmured, voice low, like something wrapped in silk and certainty. "I like when the air bites just enough to make me feel alive. I sleep better that way — tucked into warmth, but breathing in chill. I don't like when it's stuffy. When heat clings and slows you down. I want to feel the world, not get smothered by it."

A pause. Her thumb grazed Izzy's hand again — that same hand she'd learned to read like Braille, like scripture.

"I like meat snacks," she added, with the hint of a smile. "And sushi. And the green candies — always the green. Orange too. The red ones I leave behind. I don't like when people eat the best ones first. I like saving things. Drawing it out. Letting it mean something."

Another touch, trailing over Izzy's wrist, remembering the way her skin had trembled under her palm — not with weakness, but with trust.

"I like morning training. That first breath before the sun rises, when my muscles ache in a way that reminds me I'm still here. I like the sting of sweat and silence. I like when my body does what I ask of it — even when it hurts."

Her eyes flicked up — warm and wild.

"I like praying to Ashla when I'm unsure. Or scared. Not for answers. Just… to feel her. Like she hasn't left. Like she still sees me, even when I don't know where I stand."

Her voice lowered, not out of shyness, but reverence.

"I hate letting people down. That feeling — like something snapped out of rhythm. When I know I could've done more, said more, been better. That sticks."

Her hand, still in Izzy's, turned slightly — fingers tracing the path of veins, of calluses. Her eyes softened.

"But you…" Annie breathed, "you're a roadmap I've only just begun to follow. And already I know it by the Maker's touch."

Her other hand lifted — brushed over Izzy's hip, up her side. Barely-there touches, like she was tracing the memory of every place she'd kissed, every breath she'd stolen in the dark between questions and confessions.

"I like the curve of your lower back. The way your body arches, not to show off — but to yield. Not submission. Something older. Something true.”

She smiled — small, real.

"I like the way you tense when I touch your stomach — not because you want me to stop, but because you're not used to being seen there. Not really. Not with kindness. I see it. I feel it."

A breath. Her fingers moved again — brushing Izzy's jaw, her collarbone, reverent.

"I like how you breathe when I kiss just beneath your ear. Like the world stills. Like for once you're not fighting to be strong, you're just… being."

She leaned in now, slow, temple brushing against Izzy's.

"I like how you're quiet, but not empty. I like how you laugh — the real one, the one that slips out sideways like you forgot to guard it. I like the way you say my name like it's new every time."

Her voice fell to a whisper.

"I like your scars. The ones I can see, and the ones I feel beneath my fingertips. I want to learn every one. I want to know what hurt you — not to fix it, but to honor it."

Her lips hovered close now — not quite kissing, not yet. Just breathing in the truth.

"You're not just something I want. You're something I recognize. In the quiet. In the ache. In the way you looked at me like green was your favorite color because I wore it."

Annie tilted her head, pressing a kiss to Izzy's cheek — not rushed, not burning. Just real.

"And stars help me, I'm not scared of this."

She drew back, only far enough to see her again.

"I want to keep learning you. In every way."

The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was the sound of two hearts, daring to stay open.

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy didn’t blink.

Not once.

Every word out of Annie’s mouth was a thread, and Izzy was caught — entangled in silk and reverence and something deeper than she knew how to name. She was listening, fully, wholly, in the way people only did when their world had narrowed down to one voice. One person.

Anneliese.

The more she spoke, the more it struck something inside Izzy — a part of her she hadn’t dared to look at in such a long time. She’d been held before. Kissed. Touched. But never seen like this. Not with that much gentleness. That much awe.

Not with that much love.

No — don’t call it that, she told herself. It was far too soon. Too fragile. And yet the word hovered, ghostlike, somewhere behind her ribs.

Her hand was still in Annie’s. Her body leaned in without her telling it to. Like instinct. Like need. Every soft brush of Annie’s fingers lit up her nerves in quiet bursts, and when the kiss came — that slow, reverent press to her cheek — Izzy shivered. Actually shivered.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

And then, softly, she tilted her head until their foreheads touched. Not rushed. Not intense. Just.. close.

Closer than she’d let anyone be in a very long time.

Her silver eyes stayed open, locked on Annie’s. And when she finally spoke, her voice was soft — barely more than a breath.

"…You’re... incredible, Anneliese."

The words felt too small for what she meant. But they were all she had. All she could give in that moment, as her chest ached with something that felt like awe. Like falling.

She didn’t look away. She couldn’t look away.

She didn’t want this night to end.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine​

Anneliese didn't smile in the way most people smiled. Not big. Not bright. But when Izzy leaned in, when their foreheads met and those silver eyes locked on hers, something in her softened — like frost touched by morning sun.

She exhaled, a quiet thing. A sigh not of tiredness, but of something far deeper. Like contentment. Like trust.

Her thumb moved—slow, deliberate—over Izzy's knuckles. One pass. Then another. As though mapping the shape of something sacred.

"Izzy…" she murmured, her voice low, rich, a note laced with reverence. "You say that like I'm a miracle."

She tilted her head just slightly, brushing her nose against Izzy's, a whisper of contact — not quite a kiss, but not far from one either.

"Do you know what you look like when you listen?" she asked, eyes flickering between Izzy's. "It's like your whole soul leans forward. Like you were starved for something gentle and didn't know it until it touched you."

Her hand moved then, not away, but up — fingertips ghosting over Izzy's jaw, her cheekbone, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with reverent precision.

"And you shivered when I kissed you," Anneliese added, quieter now, leaning in just a breath closer. "Not because it startled you. But because you let it in. You let me in."

She let the words settle in the stillness between them, and then—softly, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips—she shifted back just enough to study Izzy with mock-innocent curiosity.

"Now," she murmured, tone turning lighter, playful, but still deliberate, "about that stuffed animal I definitely wasn't supposed to see. The one hidden under a pillow like a priceless artifact."

She gave Izzy's hand the faintest squeeze, eyes glinting. "It was adorable. You're adorable. And you can't lie to me and say it's just a keepsake. It was loved. Still is."

Her gaze softened again, voice dipping into something more earnest.

"Tell me the story. Please. I want to know the things no one else asks about. The things that don't make it into reports or retellings. I want to know you."

Then, almost under her breath, like it wasn't meant to be caught—

"I already know I love you. That part's not in question."

She reached with her free hand, picking up a small silver spoon from the dessert tray they'd nearly forgotten. Something rich and chocolate-drenched sat between them, untouched.

Anneliese offered the spoon across the narrow distance between them like an invitation. Like a vow.

"Tell me, and I'll share the secret of my stuffed animal," she added, voice warm with mischief. "I'll even tell you his name."

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy blushed so hard her ears burned. The sudden shift — from the intensity of Annie’s gaze to the soft tease about Moss — knocked her off balance more than anything else had that night. Not the dress. Not the restaurant. Not even the way Annie had whispered such profound sweetnesses like they were just a fact of the universe.

Her breath caught, and she glanced away, laughing under it.

"Stars, Annie..."

She dragged a hand through her hair, cheeks glowing, silver eyes darting back to meet those glinting green ones — searching, flustered, and completely undone by the sheer tenderness.

"Moss," she said eventually, voice quieter now. "His name’s Moss."

She ran her thumb slowly along Annie’s hand, grounding herself.

"I... never knew my parents, Annie. I was left at a foster home on Hapes when I was a baby — one of the state ones, not the private estate kind. Everything was communal. Even your bed could be given to someone else if you left long enough."

Her smile was faint. Not bitter. Just distant. Remembered. There was an echo of pain in her eyes, but the kind of pain one feels when irritating an ancient wound that had otherwise been forgotten.

"But Moss… he was mine. The only thing I had when they found me. He’s small — grey, or at least he used to be. Floppy ears. A bit too long in the limbs, like someone stitched him together not quite knowing how bunnies are supposed to work."

She laughed under her breath, sheepish now, as her eyes looked distantly into the past, a touch warm now.

"I used to... hide him during inspections. Because if they saw he was getting too ragged, they might throw him out. Said broken things were unhygienic."

Her jaw tightened just slightly. Then eased again when her eyes met Annie’s once more.

"I think… I think that’s why I kept him so close. Even now. He doesn’t look like much, but he was mine. Is mine. Proof that something stayed, even when everything else didn’t. And he... was there through everything. When my first family rejected me and sent me back to the home. When I got my first job on a mining rig at sixteen. When..."

She stopped. She wasn't quite prepared to to drudge up that memory again.

A beat passed.

"I still hold him at night. Not always. Just when things are too quiet. Like I need to remember I’m still... me. That I survived."

She smiled then, small but real, brushing her thumb across Annie’s palm.

"So yeah... That’s Moss."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"He’s... family... The only family I have."

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine​

Annie didn't speak right away. Her hand stayed where it was—anchored beneath Izzy's, warm and steady. She just looked at her, really looked at her, with a gaze that softened something in her chest. Like she knew what it meant to live with ghosts, and still choose to smile anyway.

Then, quietly, she said, "I think Moss might be braver than half the Jedi I've met."

The words were light, but the tone wasn't. Her voice dipped low, thick with quiet truth. No humor, no pity. Just reverence.

"I mean it," she added. "He stayed. Through everything. That makes him extraordinary. And you… you're more than that."

She shifted, slowly, folding one leg beneath her so she could face Izzy fully. The soft lighting caught in her eyes, glinting like glass in sunlight. "You said he reminded you of who you are… That you survived."

She let that linger a moment—then, her own story began to unfold, one word at a time.

"I think… you and I are the same, in ways that are hard to explain."

A pause.

"My mother's last breath was spent bringing me to safety. I don't know how long she ran or how far. Just that when they found me, I was wrapped in a woven shawl and left on the steps of the Silver Temple on Kashyyyk. Alone. No name. No trace of her. Just me."

Her voice stayed calm, but it wasn't emotionless. It was heavy. Controlled, not cold.

"I used to pretend she was still alive. That she'd come back one day, tell me it was all a mistake. That I wasn't just some forgotten burden left on sacred ground. But I know better now. I think she knew she wouldn't survive the night. I think she gave everything she had to make sure I would."

Annie's hand moved gently, her thumb brushing along Izzy's again in that same slow rhythm.

"They raised me with kindness. The Silvers. But it wasn't easy. I was… different. Not just because I came from nothing—but because I'm Gurlanin. Most people don't even know what that means. Not rare exactly, just uncommon enough that no one really talks about us. Shapechangers. Shifters. My biology wasn't something the Order had much experience with."

Her gaze drifted slightly, remembering.

"When I first phased—six, terrified, alone—it felt like my body was breaking. Like every bone had to be broken and remade. You don't ease into it. It's visceral. Primal. My joints realigned, my chest split open with heat, and my skin rippled like fire under the surface. And when it was done… there I was. Covered in deep scarlet fur, standing on four legs, heart pounding out of rhythm."

She let a breath go, soft and unsteady. "I didn't recognize myself. And neither did anyone else."

Annie shook her head slowly, almost smiling—but it didn't reach her eyes.

"They didn't know what to do with me. So they smiled and told me I was strong. Then whispered when they thought I couldn't hear. I trained twice as hard to be taken half as seriously. Just to be noticed."

A beat passed. Then a breath.

"I had a stuffed animal too," she added quietly, like she'd nearly forgotten. "Not as noble as Moss. It was a loth-cat. Patchy and overstuffed. One ear permanently bent. I named her Veela. She was the only thing that smelled like home—like my mother's cloak. I used to hide her under my robes during lightsaber training. Told the Masters it was to strengthen my balance."

And then Annie leaned in, her forehead brushing against Izzy's, the closeness soft and intentional. A shared breath. A shared silence.

"But I see you," she whispered. "And I want you to see me, too… and just like I know there’s more for you to tell — I have so much I want to share with you… so much Izzy."

She kissed her. Just once. A feather-light thing, pressed against Izzy's temple like a promise.

"You're not alone, Izzy."

Annie's voice trembled now, not from fear—but from the sheer magnitude of saying all of this aloud.

"I think we survived so we could find each other."

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy didn’t speak. Not right away. Her silver eyes were locked on Annie’s, wide and unblinking — as though every word she’d just heard had etched itself into her bones. She felt it, deep in her chest, the way Annie spoke not just of pain, but of truth. Of her mother. Of Veela. Of hiding softness in a world that only respected sharp edges. Of being different. Of surviving.

She wanted to say something. Anything.

But the words caught in her throat.

Her jaw worked slightly, her lips parting like she might begin, only to fall silent again. A flicker of frustration danced across her brow — not at Annie, never at Annie — but at her own inability to express the storm inside her.

"I..." she began, voice soft, raw with emotion. "Annie, I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling right now."

She let out a shaky breath, her thumb trembling slightly as it brushed over the back of Annie’s hand.

"I should have something meaningful. Something poetic, something beautiful, like you. But all I can think is..."

She trailed off, her eyes glinting wet in the candlelight.

Then she moved — gently, suddenly — closing the last few inches between them. Her hand rose to cup Annie’s cheek, reverent and certain this time, and she leaned in.

Their lips met.

Not with heat, not with hunger — but with something deeper. A kiss that trembled with feeling, with quiet desperation and something sacred. A vow, unspoken.

When she pulled back, just barely, their foreheads rested together again, breath mingling.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I would... protect you through everything. All of it. You don't... need to hurt anymore, Annie."

Another pause. And then, so quietly she almost didn’t hear herself say it:

"I… I love you."

There was no fanfare. No fireworks. Just truth. It landed soft. Certain.

And Izzy didn’t take it back. Didn’t try to run.

She just stayed. Still and open, like her whole soul was finally standing in the light.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine​

Annie didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.

The words I love you hit her with all the force of a star cruiser — not crashing, not violent, but immense. A quiet impact that sent everything inside her reeling. Like gravity had shifted. Like time itself had paused to let her feel it.

She stared at Izzy, and the world seemed to mute around her — no sound, no thought, just the heavy thrum of her heartbeat echoing like a war drum in her ears. Her lips parted, the start of something, anything—but nothing came. Her throat clenched. Her chest rose shallow.

And then the dam cracked.

Not in a single dramatic collapse, but in slow, deliberate breaking — as though her body had finally grown tired of holding back everything she'd buried.

Her eyes welled. Not the quick tears of shock, but the kind that built from someplace deep, molten and old. Her hand rose and found Izzy's where it still cupped her cheek, and she pressed into it—leaned into it—like it was the only thing anchoring her to this moment.

"I…" Her voice barely came out. Raw silk. Frayed at the edges. "I was going to say something. Right before you kissed me. I had it in my head. A whole thought. I needed you to know how much that meant. What you said. The way you see me."

A trembling breath left her. Her thumb grazed along Izzy's hand, tracing the bones with reverence.

"But then you kissed me…" Her voice caught, tears spilling. "And it was like the whole galaxy fell away. Like everything I've carried… the ache, the shame, the years of wondering if I was just fundamentally unlovable…"

She paused, breath catching, shoulders shaking as she tried to contain what had already long escaped.

"When Roman left," she whispered, "he didn't just walk away. He… took the future I thought I'd have. Made me think I wasn't enough. Or maybe too much. Too intense. Too emotional. Too soft in the places people wanted hard. Too scarred. Too complicated."

Her voice cracked, but she didn't stop.

"I started believing it. That I'd been the reason. That maybe no one would ever be able to hold me. And gods, I told myself I was fine. I told myself I didn't need to be loved again."

Annie finally looked up. Looked into Izzy.

"But then I met you," she breathed. "And from the moment our eyes met, something in me knew. You didn't flinch from my pain. You didn't shy away from the softness. You held it. You held me. From the way you looked at me to the way you kissed me… like you weren't afraid of any of it."

Her hand slid to Izzy's jaw, cupping it gently, her thumb brushing along her cheek with the care of someone holding something precious.

"You made me feel like maybe love wasn't done with me yet."

And then, with a slow, steady exhale, she said it—truth, holy and whole:

"I love you."

Her voice didn't shake this time. It landed solid, even as her body trembled.

"I love you, Izzy."


And as she leaned in again, their foreheads touching, her breath brushed across Izzy's lips just before she kissed her — not with urgency, not with fear, but with all the reverence of something reborn.

A kiss like warmth in winter. Like hope made flesh.

A kiss that promised: you are not alone anymore.

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy didn't let go. Not of Annie's hand. Not of her gaze. Not of the moment that had cracked them both open in the quietest, most breathtaking way. When Annie leaned into her, when her tears didn't fall alone, something deep inside Izzy — a place she hadn't touched in years — stirred awake.

She kept their foreheads pressed together. Her hand, calloused and warm, rose to gently cradle the side of Annie's face in turnk. Her thumb brushed beneath her eye, catching a tear before it could fall.

The silence was sacred. She didn't rush it.

They breathed in tandem.

And when Annie spoke — when she said those words back, unshaking, full of truth — Izzy closed her eyes.

It was like everything stopped hurting at once.

It was like everything had been waiting for this.

She didn't know what to say. Not at first. Words felt too small. But she tried, and even if her voice stumbled over itself, it didn't matter.

"I… stars, I don't know what this is," she whispered, pressing a kiss just beneath Annie's jaw. "I don't know how it came on so fast, so... loud. But I can't run from it. I don't want to run from it."

Her voice shook, just barely — not with fear, but with the weight of truth.

"I'm not afraid of what and who you are, Annie. Not your softness. Not your scars. Not the past that clings to you."

A pause.

Her hand came to rest over Annie's heart now, slow and steady.

"You feel like home. And I don't know how I've lived this long without it."

Another breath.

Another kiss.

This time deeper. A little longer. A little needier.

And when she finally pulled back, eyes wet but glowing, she whispered:

"I'm going to look after you. I promise."

And somewhere, inside all the ache and awe and wonder — Izzy knew with quiet certainty:

She had fallen. Entirely. And she wasn't coming back up.