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Shadowheart spreads the blanket over the grass and tries not to look like this is her first time doing this. Around them, the park sprawls green, unconcerned, accommodating joggers and families and, in this particular corner, people who have chosen to opt out of clothing on this warm Sunday afternoon.
"You're thinking too loud," Karlach says, pulling her tank top over her head.
"I'm not! I'm not thinking anything."
"You're thinking why did I agree to this, and everyone is looking at me, and probably something about how the nuns from St. Shar's would have a collective stroke if they could see this place." Karlach grins, unhooking her bra. "For the record, no one's looking. Nobody cares."
Shadowheart glances around. She's right: there's an elderly couple reading newspapers, a posse of university students playing frisbee, a group doing yoga. All various degrees of clothed, or otherwise—and, above all, completely unbothered.
"Come on." Karlach drops onto the blanket, already down to her underwear. "It's just sunbathing. You like sunbathing."
"I like sunbathing—in clothes."
"You like sunbathing in a bikini that's basically dental floss." Karlach tips her head back, lets the sun hit her face. "This just... saves on laundry to do."
Shadowheart sits, then lies back beside her. The grass smells like summer. Above them, clouds drift lazy and directionless.
"Okay," she says. "Fine. But if anyone stares—"
"They won't." Karlach's hand finds hers. Squeezes. "I promise. And if you hate it, we leave. No questions asked."
Shadowheart takes a breath. Pulls off her sundress, and then her bra. The air hits her skin: warm and strange, and not entirely unpleasant. She keeps her eyes on the sky, feeling absurdly exposed and also somehow... free?
"There you go." Karlach sounds proud. "Not so bad, right?"
"Hm. Jury's still out."
She risks a glance sideways, Karlach has stripped completely now, lying on her back with her arms behind her head. The sun catches on her shoulders—toned muscle, warm brown skin, tattoos and scars all up and down her ribs. She's magnificent like this: unselfconscious, taking up space like she was made for it. Shadowheart's own body feels slight by comparison: pale where Karlach is bronze, slim where Karlach is built.
And yet Karlach's looking at her now, and there's nothing in her expression but warmth.
"What?"
"Nothing. You're just really pretty in the sun."
Shadowheart rolls her eyes, but she can't help but smile. "Flatterer."
"It's true." Karlach reaches over, trails her fingers along Shadowheart's arm. "You look like one of those—fancy paintings. All elegant and perfect."
"You look like you could bench press a car."
"Could probably bench press you." Karlach waggles her eyebrows. "Want to test it?"
"I'll have to decline for now, thank you.”
They settle into comfortable silence, the park continuing its lazy rhythm around them. Someone's playing guitar in the distance. A dog barks, and the frisbee game continues. Warm and content, Shadowheart lets her eyes drift shut, the sun's rays soaking into her skin. Beside her, Karlach's breathing evens out, and Shadowheart realizes she's actually relaxing.
No one's staring. No one cares. They're just two people lying on the grass.
"This is nice," she admits.
"Told you." Karlach sounds smug.
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late." A pause. "Hey, Shadowheart?"
"Mm?"
"Thanks for trying this. I know it's weird for you."
Shadowheart opens her eyes. Turns her head. Karlach's looking at her with some soft expression, one that makes Shadowheart's chest feel too small for everything inside it.
"It's not that weird," she says. Then, "Okay, it's a little weird. But it's... good weird. I think."
Karlach grins. "We like good weird."
They lie there for another hour. Karlach falls asleep at some point, emanating tiny snores, and Shadowheart reads her book—also weird, what's this, reading naked in a park. But she's committed now, and the pages turn themselves until Karlach wakes.
Stretches like a cat, lazy and satisfied. "Want to get ice cream?" she asks Shadowheart.
Shadowheart closes her book. "Only if we're allowed to wear clothes for it."
"Spoilsport."
They dress at a relaxed pace, shaking grass off the blanket. Karlach keeps stealing glances at her, appreciative and affectionate, and Shadowheart finds herself blushing under the attention in a way she didn't while they were actually naked.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing. Just thinking about how good you look." Karlach leans in, voice dropping. "And how much better you're going to look later when I get you alone in our hotel room."
Heat pools low in Shadowheart's stomach. Karlach's smile turns wicked, filled with promise.
They pack up the blanket. Walk hand in hand toward the park's exit, toward ice cream and the rest of their afternoon and eventually back to their hotel where the nakedness will mean something entirely different: something private and hungry and just for them.
But just now, there's just the sun and the grass and Karlach's hand in hers, and Shadowheart can't help but feel that everything is exactly right.