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."