The Moss Velvet Nook

I parted a heavy hanging curtain of dyed flax, slipping into the quiet curve of a recessed sleeping alcove. Nestled against the sandstone plinth was a crescent-shaped cushion of dark moss-green velvet, its piping stitched with tiny flat brass discs. I sank softly onto my heels, tilting my head as the corridor's distant echoes settled into a low, steady thrum. Reaching forward, I drew a folded throw of quilted raw silk over my lap. The fabric was delightfully dense, shutting out the creeping night chill of the flagstones. Tucking the velvet curve close against my side, I leaned back, letting the quiet stillness of the alcove cradle me into rest.