The Velvet Cradle of Everwood – Chapter Sixteen – Bathhouse Beneath the Blossoms
By the time the golden shadows of the Wishing Hollow gave way to the cobbled paths near Liora’s home, Eliot had nearly dozed off in the stroller.
The gentle jingle of charms on the stroller’s canopy, the rhythmic sway of the ride, and the heavy warmth of his body all melted into a dreamy fog. His pacifier moved lazily between his lips, and the soft weight of the bunny blanket tucked around his legs made him feel like he was floating.
Only when they passed through the floral archway outside Liora’s cottage—its vines blooming with pink and white blossoms that opened in response to their presence—did he blink himself halfway back to wakefulness.
“We’re not quite home just yet, Sprout,” Liora murmured, brushing her fingers through his tousled hair. “There’s something I think you’ll enjoy first. Something special.”
Eliot blinked up at her with sleepy eyes, but he didn’t fuss or question. He was long past resisting.
She wheeled him gently past the main house, down a smooth, cobbled trail lined with lantern flowers that glowed faintly even in the afternoon light. At the end of the path stood a round domed structure wrapped in flowering vines, with steam curling up from its windows and petals drifting lazily down from the tree branches overhead.
“The Everwood Bathhouse,” Liora said softly, placing her hand over Eliot’s. “Only for caretakers and their littles. No pressure. Just warm water, soft bubbles, and gentle hands.”
Eliot stirred slightly in the stroller, his diaper crinkling beneath the blanket. A soft flush crept to his cheeks.
He hadn’t even thought about bath time.
Back in the adult world, baths were routine. Private. Often rushed. A matter of necessity, not comfort. But here, in this soft bubble of magical safety, the thought of being bathed by someone else—by Liora—was something else entirely.
Not embarrassing. Not exactly.
Just… vulnerable.
“Will you stay with me the whole time?” he whispered.
Liora smiled warmly. “Every moment.”
Inside the bathhouse, the air was thick with steam and the scent of enchanted blossoms. The central pool was shallow and wide, carved from smooth stone and surrounded by cushioned benches and floating trays of warm cloths, lotions, toys, and towels. Above, soft petals drifted continuously from a tree growing right through the center of the dome, creating a ceiling of fluttering pink and gold.
A few other caretakers were present, each bathing their own little with quiet tenderness—rinsing hair, giggling over bubbles, or gently scrubbing tiny toes.
None looked up or stared. No one even blinked when Liora lifted Eliot from the stroller and carried him toward a small nook lined with warm towels and glowing soapstones.
His diaper crinkled loudly as she carried him, but she didn’t try to hide it. She didn’t rush. She moved like there was nowhere more important in the world than right here.
“Let’s get you out of this soggy thing, hmm?” she cooed, laying him on a padded bench and unsnapping the buttons of his romper. His diaper was damp again—not soaked, but enough that the front had begun to swell with soft squish.
He bit his lip but nodded.
The moment the tapes came free and the cool air kissed his bare skin, Eliot shivered slightly.
“There’s my brave boy,” she whispered, wrapping a warm towel around his lower half and lifting him into her arms again. “Let’s get you in.”
The water was warm. Not hot—Everwood bathwater was always exactly the right temperature for littles. It adjusted automatically based on mood and comfort.
Liora settled into the shallow pool first, then brought Eliot into her lap, cradling him gently against her chest.
The moment his body touched the water, Eliot sighed.
It was like the warmth seeped into his bones, chasing out the last of the tension he hadn’t realized he still carried.
Tiny sparkling bubbles rose around them, not aggressively foamy but soft and glowing, filling the air with a faint floral hum.
“I’ve got you,” Liora whispered, holding him steady with one arm while her other hand gently cupped water and poured it over his shoulders, then down his chest.
Eliot closed his eyes.
No scrubbing. No harsh soaps. No rushing.
Just slow, circular motions. The soft scrape of a loofah made of enchanted sea-silk. The comforting rhythm of Liora’s hands as she washed his arms, his legs, even the gentle ticklish space behind his knees.
At one point, he opened his eyes to find a rubber duck bobbing near his elbow. The duck winked at him, then squeaked gently without anyone touching it.
Liora chuckled. “That’s Puddle. He only shows up when a little’s truly relaxing.”
Eliot blinked at the duck, then giggled softly. “Hi, Puddle…”
The duck squeaked again.
When Liora gently rinsed his hair, tilting his head back into her palm and humming a lullaby, Eliot didn’t flinch. He didn’t squirm. He didn’t feel the need to act like he could do it himself.
Because, for once… he didn’t want to.
He wanted her to hold him. To care for him. To wash the world off his skin.
By the time the bath ended, Eliot’s cheeks were glowing and his eyelids were heavy again. Liora lifted him out with a plush towel waiting, wrapping him up like a sleepy dumpling and kissing the tip of his nose.
“There we go,” she cooed, drying between his toes with practiced ease. “Fresh as a sprout in spring.”
He smiled sleepily. “I liked that…”
“I know,” she said, her voice warm and low. “And I love bathing you, sweet boy.”
She changed him again on a cushioned bench nearby—this time into a nighttime diaper printed with softly glowing stars. It was thicker than the others, but he didn’t mind. Not when she was so gentle. Not when it made him feel so… little.
She dressed him in a fresh sleeper—soft blue with tiny clouds and a moon on the chest—and cradled him in her arms.
As she carried him back toward the cottage, the breeze through the trees rustled like a lullaby. His pacifier was back in his mouth, and his thumb curled softly in the fabric near his chin.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
Because every part of him knew:
He was cared for.
He was wanted.
He was home.
The End of The Velvet Cradle of Everwood – Chapter Sixteen – Bathhouse Beneath the Blossoms
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