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Standing just inside the West-facing double doors of the Stone Stable, you see an airy space, with a high ceiling and fluted pillars at regular intervals. The stone is pale grey, worn smooth under your feet and painted in fading shades of yellow and white in the grooves of each pillar. Scrolls and ivy are carved into the places where the ceiling joins the walls and the pillars, as though it were a celebration of the reunited stone.
To your left, you would see a wide hallway, flanked on either side by half doors of solid oak, stained in shades of light tan, panel borders painted yellow and fading with age. Rather than latches or knobs, there are short rope pulls that could be worked by a horse, and several of those beasts are looking at you curiously over the stall doors.
Past them, you see a second set of double doors facing North, open to a packed dirt yard, where a single goat and several chickens are wandering. Above the door, you can see what looks like a wide stone walkway, set inside the wall. Now you notice that the walkway stretches all the way around the cavernous room, and there are large gaps between the walkway and the wall at the head of each stall. Wisps of hay hang from the openings, and from your vantage point, you can see the heaps of hay stored up in this wrap-around loft. The ladder to reach the loft is just behind you and to the left. You could climb it, if you wanted. It looks very sturdy.
Directly in front of you, a large alcove holds two wide doorways. One opens into a spacious kitchen, with a wrap-around counter and plenty of cupboard space. You can't see most of the kitchen from where you're standing, but you can see that the stone floor has a smooth, slightly indented path worn into the flat slabs, where hundreds of feet have walked from where you're standing to the homey room beyond, the source of all deliciousness and edible foodstuff.
There don't seem to be any electric lights. Windows let in streams of sunlight on the eastern side of the building, which you are facing, and there seem to be skylights in the kitchen. You find yourself wondering how this is, since there's clearly a second level.
You approach the alcove, thinking to explore further. On the left is the kitchen, its half door open and welcoming. You can see now that the kitchen is only partially on the left, beyond the door, and that it also wraps around to the right, under and beyond the ramp that leads to the second level.
After a moment of deliberation, you decide to take the ramp to the second level, curious about what sort of living quarters might be boasted in a stable made of stone.
The ramp curves to the left, and follows the outer wall upward to the level of the high ceiling. A handrail on your right keeps you steady, though the ramp itself isn't steep. At the top of the ramp, you find yourself standing in a low hallway. You could touch the ceiling without trouble if you wanted to. By the dark spot above your head, you can guess that many people have. There are windows on the right, facing east, and doors on the left. A close-cropped rug of dark red and creamy yellow runs the length of the hall, where maybe a dozen rooms stand open. Sunlight reflects off the pale stone in the hallway, bouncing into the rooms beyond.
As you pass the first room, you peek inside. It looks like something you might see in a brochure for a bed and breakfast. A fourposter bed stands in the corner, where a thick comforter patterned with fruit and flowers drapes over the mattress and nearly touches the floor. A solid, dark chest of drawers and a mirror are against the right-hand wall, and a desk is on the left. Surprisingly, there's a small lamp on the desk, its cord hanging over the edge and pooling on the floor, where it threatens to tangle around the wheels of a threadbare desk chair that looked like it had seen many years of hard use. In the middle of the room, there's a small clear space occupied by an oval braided rug, and near the foot of the bed, set into the opposite wall, is a deep window, with an upholstered wooden seat built into the alcove.
Each room you pass is more or less the same, with slightly different furniture, different bedspreads, and different chairs. Nothing matches, but everything is arranged the same. Some of the rooms have pictures on the walls, and personal items on the desks. Most seem empty, though. Unoccupied and forlorn.
The last room is a living room, with mismatched couches, a thick rug, and an old-fashioned TV, flanked by large bookcases filled with books and a few VHS tapes in ratty cases.
This, you think, would be a good place to live.
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