It was kind of a strange, awkward mixture of a housewarming and 'Get Well Soon' gesture.  It was awkward.  It was awkward beyond belief.  But, perhaps it was because the whole scenario was so far out of left field that the awkwardness just didn't register.  Or it had stopped registering.  Like the pain from a stubbed toe finally fades. 

Initially, Sasha had decided the best way to handle the professor's current ... ailment ... was to approach it the same way he did most difficult scenarios: to pretend like it didn't exist and everything was normal.  He could treat Professor Trishna  the same way he always did and no one would notice his hooves.  Or ears.  Or mane that was likely to get matted really easily. 

No.  No.  He wasn't going to think that.  Everything was going to be normal.  Sasha held that determination when he climbed to the Astronomy tower, his notebook in hand.  But, Professor Trishna wasn't in the tower when Sasha reached the top.  Sasha crossed the room to the couches to wait but froze when he spotted the ... den behind the couches.  It was on a much smaller scale but the mound of straw in the alcove behind the couch held the telltale signs of having been slept in. 

Sasha had already decided that any acknowledgement of the Astronomy Professor's current four-legged, two-winged condition was bound to be offensive so Sasha quickly left the scene, hoping no one would have noticed.  What had prompted him to return with the housewarming, Get Well Soon gesture, he didn't know.  Perhaps it was sympathy or guilt or ... he didn't know.  He assumed Professor Trishna was avoiding eating in the Great Hall, though. 

So, when he returned to the tower, he had a fresh supply of hay, some water and a few other items tucked away in his bag.  He scattered the fresh hay, after clearing the old, left a few treats on the desk and then turned to make a hasty retreat.  Only he needed to know he'd made the gesture; it was alright if it remained otherwise anonymous. 

There was a distant, faint clip clop out side on the battlements, and the faint sound of beating wings. Tapendra landed with an ease that he had only finally achieved that morning; the ease of landing added no bonuses to his appearance, however.

How did horses stand this? He itched, he was dirty and he couldn't do anything about it. A short trip outside had staved off his hunger and given him time to think, but had also ended with him learning there was no way to scratch and stay clean. He'd ended up rubbing on a tree, first, but that had just gotten him covered in pine needles and small twigs; a roll in the dirt had helped the itching, but now he was covered in dust and mud.

He couldn't teach like this! Maybe if he was lucky the Prefect's bathroom still had the same password from school. Now if only he could remember what it was-

He nudged one of the heavy sheets aside, slipping through the covered archway into the tower proper. Sasha was in the process of heading for the stairs; Tapendra just cocked his head. "Sash-" he started, and then he spotted the fresh hay and the treats and went silent, horse-face going utterly neutral as he walked to the desk and sniffed the threats apprehensively. They actually smelled quite appealing.

The owner of the light hoofbeats was a given; there were only so many hooved Hogwarts residents that could reach the tower's ledge.  Sasha lengthened his stride, admittedly trying to evade the strangeness before his presence could be noted.  But, he didn't move fast enough - or Professor Trishna moved too quickly. 

Either way, Sasha heard his name a stride short of the archway and stopped, turning back towards the pint-sized professor.  "I'm sorry, sir," Sasha offered, taking in the man's ... pegasus' condition, fully aware of the bright warmth in his cheeks. 

Professor Trishna had already noticed the fresh bedding in the alcove and treats clustered on the desk.  The gesture could just as likely come across as offensive as how it was intended.  As Professor Trishna inspected the treats, Sasha waited quietly, fully expecting some reprimand or outright angry outburst. 

He waited several breaths to make sure the man wasn't going to react before offering an explanation.  "They're just oats.  With apples and cinnamon. It's ... pretty much apple oatmeal.  The nurse thought I was going to give them to her mare; I tried them.  They're not bad."  He grew quiet again, his eyes flickering between the treats and a particularly dense spot of dirt on the pegasus' withers. 

"I'm sorry.  I can ... they're ... I don't really know what's proper in this situation." 

The silence stretched for a moment; Sasha broke it by providing an explanation of what the little lumps were, which Tapendra had to admit actually sounded good - and like something he'd eat, horse or not. They certainly smelled good. The fact they were treats specifically for a horse was a bit of a...well, it was a tad insulting, really. But he found it hard to believe the boy meant it that way.

He sighed, and turned to Sasha with was was best described as a smile - ears forward, blue eyes warm. "I don't think anyone knows what's proper in this situation, Sasha," he said finally, and plucked one of the treats off the desk, chewing it thoughtfully.

"Not bad," he said, when he'd swallowed. He shook himself off; while this dislodged dirt, it also created a dust cloud that puffed up from his hide. He stepped out of it, looking at the carpet despondently as the dust descended on the carpet.

He looked up at Sasha, smile faltering for a moment as he sighed. "Thank you, Sasha. I'm afraid I'm not really familiar with what - with horses. Or - or with being one."

In the absence of an angry outburst, the Ravenclaw's shoulders relaxed and lowered in a visible sigh.  The treats really weren't that bad and the nurse had made them herself so they were bound to be healthy and all that good stuff. After all, were they really that different from oatmeal cookies?  They were just ... slightly carrot shaped oatmeal cookies.  An unfortunate detail.  The nurse probably would have thought to make them more traditionally-cookie-shaped if she'd known who they were for. 

"I'd assumed your ... you know ... stomach and stuff was pretty much ... horse," Sasha explained, his nose wrinkling slightly at the shower of dust and debris on the floor.  He'd seen Professor Trishna around his horses; he'd also come to the conclusion Professor Trishna wasn't going to be that familiar with being a horse.  "I mean, I assume you can't eat nuts or meat or tomatoes and such without getting sick." 

Sasha lowered his backpack from his shoulder and held it by his side as he crossed back over towards Professor Trishna.  "I also have some fresh stuff.  I don't really eat in the Great Hall anymore; I usually just pack whatever is convenient and portable and eat on the go.  I grabbed some extra, just in case."  Sasha unzipped his bag and tugged out a metal, tin, closable backpacking plate and a couple of apples. 

"Sir?"  Sasha took in Professor Trishna's state, again, glancing towards the clock on the wall.  "Did you need to take a shower before - oh.  Well."  That wasn't going to work, was it?  Sasha had seen enough dusty horses left out in the rain to know it would just turn the dust to mud.  Not unless he had a shower big enough for a pony to roll in.  If even that would work.  Not knowing the nature of the magic used to cause the Professor's affliction, Sasha certainly wasn't going to recommend using magic to get clean.

He tried another of the treats, and then another, crunching away as Sasha stuttered his way though and explanation of horse's stomachs. He swallowed and shook his head slightly. "When I grew up with horses, the only they'd touch was single malt whiskey," he explained. "I didn't know they couldn't eat meat." Good thing he hadn't tried, he supposed. Could horses even vomit?

The apples were also quite appealing, especially to his seemingly constantly growling stomach. He stepped towards the backpack and then paused, stopping himself. "If it's your dinner, don't worry about it," he said charitably. "But if you do have an extra..." He quite liked apples, under normal circumstances. It was good to know he could at least eat some stuff he actually liked -

He jolted when Sasha mentioned a shower, and looked back at himself before he sighed, wings and ears drooping. "I - yes, but - I can't exactly -" He lifted a hoof to indicate it. "I, ah - doors," he said, explanation failing behind his embarrassment. "I can't open doors or turn values, and the teacher's bathroom would...well..." He sighed again. "I need to but can't," he summed up, lamely.

Tapendra looked at the mess he'd made on the floor. "Sorry."

"You fed your horses whiskey?"  Sasha hesitated a moment, waiting to see if the professor was joking.  He seemed dead serious, though, and Sasha grinned, shrugging.  "Well, you could drink whiskey.  In Ireland, they often give stout to their competition horses.  But, you shouldn't eat meat.  Especially given ... you know ... your size."  Sasha crossed his legs underneath him and lowered himself to the floor. 

Sasha flipped the latches on the food tin up and removed the lid off the plate.  There was a hefty dose of salad - various greens and sliced veggies and a sprinkling of croutons along with a couple wheat roles.  A hearty spoonful of tabouli was nestled along the side of the plate.  Bless those elves that had started taking recommendations about non-roasted meat based dishes.  He spooned a good portion of each onto the lid of the plate and set a roll next to them.  He then tugged a swiss army knife from his bag and carefully split one of the apples in half and dug out the visible seeds before setting the halves out as well. 

"Ja," Sasha conceded.  "And, the lake would be cold.  Not to mention you probably wouldn't be dry by class.  Even if everything else would work."  Now, Sasha didn't mind the smell of wet horse but, given everyone's reaction the day before, it probably wouldn't help.  This was quickly turning into one of those 'how'd I get here' moments.  Here he was, sitting on the floor of the astronomy tower, trying to problem solve how to get a pint-sized winged horse clean with said pint-sized winged horse.  There was an obvious, simple solution.  It just involved ...

"Well, sir, there's ... you know ... always the, well, old-fashioned way.  I mean ... getting a horse brushed out isn't that ... complicated.  I - I mean, I'm sure ... you could ask a house elf.  I'm sure they could ... figure it out.  Or something."  Could a house elf clean without magic?  Assuming they weren't all running around crazy trying to feed and clean up after dinner for four schools.

"Abraxans," He explained, offhandedly. "Those big flying horses? They only drink or eat single malt whiskey. Don't ask me how that works." Maybe he should drink whiskey. Being drunk would probably make this whole ordeal better, wouldn't it?

He walked over to where Sasha sat, sniffing the food. The Great Hall and the feasts - normally he skipped them and just foraged late at night, but now with all this food in front of him he wanted to hit himself once for each skipped feast. How much he'd been passing up! They probably had caramel apples in the dessert trays, too. And apple pie, and that cinnamon lamb dish with apples on it...and cider...

He delicately plucked up a piece of apple without another second's thought. He was apparently craving apples, if his longings were any indication. Maybe it was a horsey thing...

Sasha's suggestion made him slowly stop chewing, though. He looked at Sasha through his thick eyelashes and slowly blinked, taking his time to picture exactly what that'd entail.

"I'm not sure I could find one," he said carefully, deciding to mention what was likely the least of his problems. "Can't get in the kitchens, and they...seem to have their own ways of getting around the castle...." He finished his apple, having been talking with his mouth full. "And I, uh, well - there are things that....you just don't want elves doing, and..."

"Whiskey's fermented mashed grain."  If Professor Trishna wasn't actually looking for an explanation as to how feeding whiskey to Abraxans worked, that detail was lost on the Ravenclaw.  He pried his dinner roll in half and spooned some of the tabouli on it.  "We feed horses mashed grain.  They're stomachs actually ferment the grain anyway.  It makes sense, actually.  Whiskey probably just concentrates all of the nutrition for the Abraxans."  Like enhancing standard fuels for rockets or something. 

This wasn't the first time Sasha had spent a meal in the Astronomy tower and it also wasn't the first time Professor Trishna had been there as well.  Given Sasha had Astronomy right after dinner three days a week, this would also probably not be the last.  It was easier to eat here, especially if he wanted to study at the same time; it was quieter and there was far less of a risk of pumpkin juice spills.  And, the social dynamics were much simpler. 

Under normal circumstances, at least. 

Elven groomers was out.  "True," Sasha conceded.  "They probably haven't ever done it before, either."  It wasn't a complicated task.  But, "probably don't want them experimenting on you.  And, you can't really groom yourself," he reasoned aloud.  "You really kind of need someone ... else ... to do it. 

Sasha scowled at the remaining corner of roll between his fingers.  "Sir?"  There was an obvious solution in front of them, even though it was steeped with awkwardness.  The alternative, though, was sitting back during class and watching Professor Trishna attempt to command the students while looking like he'd spent the afternoon taking dust baths. 

The later seemed worse.  By a very, very slim margin, but still worse.  Blushing madly, Sasha chewed his lip. 

How did one ask, though?  Excuse me, Professor.  Shall I brush you?  Sasha sat staring at his bread for several moments but every paraphrasing of that question he thought of seemed worse than the one before.  Perhaps the root question was just best unspoken. 

"It'd take me twenty minutes." 

The awkward silence stretched, crystallized, and refined into a long perfect moment where Tapendra didn't know what to say, Sasha needed him to say something, where Tapendra had to think of the upcoming class and Sasha was considering that too....

Tapendra finally looked at him, seriously, and swallowed audibly. "I-" he started, failed, and finally he lowered his head for another moment, eyes half lidded.

He knew Sasha meant it ... meant it well. And innocently. The connotations and the need to be somewhat presentable in front of students warred in his head. Besides, if Sasha didn't do it, it'd have to be someone else and...he couldn't ask his daughter to do this. Not just because of the connotations, but because he wasn't going to class with ribbons in his hair. Ever. That left the elves, who didn't come up here, and...Aileen?

Best not to think on that last one too much.

"Do it," he said, finally, and surrendered to it. "Thank you."

This was very bizarre.  And would probably be one of those things they would never speak of ever again.  But, however awkward this might be for Sasha, he had the presence of mind to realize it was probably ten times worse for the man. 

"I'll be right back."  Sasha set his roll on his plate and hurried through the archway. 

Within a few minutes, he dashed back through the archway, slightly winded but with Baldur's grooming kit in hand.  Luckily, grooming was such a familiar task it was almost second nature; he didn't really have to think much about it as he first tugged a metal tooth comb from the kit.  Getting lost in the familiarity was probably not a luxury Professor Trishna had. 

He started in on the Professor's mane, quickly but carefully working the tangles and debris free from the hair, well aware of the silence.  A silence that was not helping the awkwardness. 

"It's not like it's that different from going to the hair salon, right?" Sasha finally said, if only to fill the void.  "I never know what to say there, either.  They're right there staring at your scalp and expecting you to make small talk.  When you're not even really looking at each other."  Sasha carefully freed a twig and set it on the ground.  "Not that I'm really good at small talk, anyway." 

"This isn't from you trying to be an animagus or something, is it?" 

He really tried not to think about it. At all. Ever. Just...yes. Sasha was helping, and leave it at that. He tried to focus instead on the positives. He was getting cleaner! That was good. He was getting less itchy. And his mane was becoming less of a bees' nest. All good things. Yes. Surely.

It was weird having his mane combed, though; it felt rather like going to the muggle dentist. He could feel the tugging, but there was no sharp prickle of pain like he'd expected, especially with the hairs he saw coming out on Sasha's comb. Weird.

Then Sasha started talking again; Tapendra's ears twitched as he rotated them, which was still an odd feature.

"I suppose, yes," he said, finally. "I usually - err, I don't go to the salon much, I guess." Sasha likely did, with the short cut the boy had, compared to Tapendra's naturally spiky, messy hair. Tapendra chose not to add that he was good at small talk. Tapendra had a talent for chattering people's ears off; these last few days were just one of the rare times when he wasn't so eager to prattle on.

"An animagus? Merlin, no. I've no talent for Transfiguration," he said, with a snort. "I'd just as likely have turned myself into a stoat or something. No, this is the product of a Hag. Got sent to encourage her to leave part of the woods with Morgan, and she cursed both of us. He - well, you'll find out, I imagine. He got off better than me." The fact the Hag had apparently hoped to keep Tapendra was not going to get mentioned. Ever.

"Oh." 

Well.  Sasha had just declared he'd never been good at this small talk stuff so he didn't have to worry about any false advertisement.  Luckily, he held no sense of personal attachment to the conversation topic of hair salons; he was more than happy to let it fall to the wayside.  He turned his attention to a fresh section of mane in silence, slowing his pace and taking more care when he reached the forelock. 

"Well, that'd be ... I mean ..."  Sasha caught himself.  But, that would be obvious.  By all accounts, if what stood before him now had been the product of an animagus transformation attempt then it stood to reason that the one who'd performed the magic wasn't really that good at transfiguration.  Otherwise, Sasha wouldn't be exchanging the comb for a thick-rubber-toothed brush and a soft bristled brush. 

Alternating between circular motions with the rubber brush and short strokes with the bristled brush, Sasha began systematically drawing the dust and dirt out and off of the pegasus' coat.  The folded wings offered a new set of challenges but he figured he'd save those for last.  A good flap should take care of anything that might have fallen on them. 

"Mr. Morgan?  The librarian?"  The choice of partner was somewhat baffling and that registered in Sasha's voice.  "You went to go evict a Hag and took the librarian?"  By now, Sasha had no doubts Mr. Morgan could handle himself against a hag; he was less certain about how aware others were of the man's particular talents.  "Wouldn't it have made more sense for, you know, Professor ... Storm to go with you?"  A man Sasha had been avoiding outside of class. 

"Scheiß," Sasha muttered, the brush pausing midstroke on the professor's flank. 

Tapendra jumped slightly at the sensation of the curry, unsure for a moment what Sasha was doing. But it - it actually felt quite good, once he got used to the odd feeling of it. It was certainly helping with the itch, and the sheer amount of dust coming off his hide was kind of remarkable. He really shouldn't have rolled around like he had.

Of course, now he had the seemingly overwhelming urge to shake himself off. He tried his best to restrain this, settling for a quick flap of his wings as the dust built up.

Sasha sounded baffled; understandable, he supposed. "Wasn't entirely my choice," he said. "I don't teach in the mornings, and everyone else does, and Morgan is kind of free all day long - so we got picked." He smirked slightly. "Morgan's competent enough. Unfortunately he has...he's rather old fashioned. He wasn't very diplomatic towards the Hag, you see. He chose the "wands out, ask questions later" approach."

He sighed. "He got cursed too. Serves him right." He twitched his ears, and looked back over his shoulder at Sasha. "How are you doing, Sasha? Is it odd, being back at school properly?"

Sasha could picture it all too well.  Tact and subtlety wasn't a trait he'd yet to see in Mr. Morgan, or any of Kronos' employees for that matter.  Though, if Sasha really thought about it, Kronos was a little prone to dramatics himself.  But, of course, these were all observations Sasha couldn't share; he couldn't let on to the fact that he'd ever seen Mr. Morgan outside of a librarian's capacity. 

Hags.  Sasha couldn't help wrinkle his nose - and not just because of the regular puffs of dust rising from the Professor's side  At this rate, Professor Trishna was going to be clean in time for class but Sasha was going to have a fine coat of post-grooming dust all over his uniform. 

"Hopefully, you at least got the Hag to move?  You don't have to, you know, go try again?  There are worse things to get turned into."  Sasha paused mid-stroke, scowling slightly in thought.  "Not that I'd know.  I'm just assuming.  But, I mean, like a sloth.  You'd probably still be out in the forest."  A sloth version of Professor Trishna would probably have only made it five trees away from where the Hag lived by now.  "What did Mr. Morgan get turned into?  I mean...I know it's not my business."  But, it wasn't like it was bound to be a secret. 

Sasha resumed currying, pausing every once in a while to clear the brush of built up dust and collected black and blue hairs. 

"How are you doing, Sasha? Is it odd, being back at school properly?"

He couldn't help it.  Here he was, currying his professor who just happened to be a pegasus that looked like it was painted up by jocks for a pivotal Ravenclaw house cup game.  And, said professor had just asked him if it was odd to be back.  He couldn't help it.  Sasha started laughing, despite himself.  "I'm sorry," he offered, hoping Professor Trishna recognized Sasha wasn't laughing at him.  It was just everything - the stress, the uncertainty of the year and sheer craziness of the situation.  After another mumbled apology and a deep breath, Sasha focused on the question. 

"Kind of; it's kind of lonely.  I miss Abby," he admitted.  "It is odd.  But, at the same time, it feels like ... It always seems like the start of school's supposed to be that new start when everything goes back to normal.  Last year - I remember being nervous but excited to be back and away from home.  But it feels like everything's changed.  I don't know.  Everything feels so complicated now and ..." 

He really didn't know how to explain it.  "Like this whole routine and excitement of starting over is like some relic from the past that doesn't fit anymore either.  I don't know.  I just don't feel like this is where I'm supposed to be anymore.  But, I'm not really sure where else I'm supposed to be, either.  I don't know.  Luckily, though, I don't really have time to think about it much."