My Lord, for comfort!

The cushion lounged, sat back on its revered bum, flanked by two carefree attendants Who liked nothing more than to emulate their liege lord, albeit they were given only to produce a more squashed-looking facsimile. On that regal dais, sketchy-looking pages lay, bowed, having come unbound of what adhered them once to their hardbound face, although they still maintained sibling cohesion. And so they beseeched the royal bolsters to grant them shelter and patronage.