Sasha leaned his head back against heavy, fire-warmed stones and stared, blankly, past the paddock fence.  Not far off, three pearl-white forms lounged lazily in the quickly-bronzing grass, the autumn sun reflecting off the unicorns’ white coats.  He was no stranger to the oddities inherent in regularly moving between the wizarding and muggle worlds but even he was struggling with how to repackage his activities when his Cambridge classmates inquired about his weekend. 

His Saturday, after all, had been spent conversing with a stranger about reanimating animal skeletons in a shabby, questionable pub in Hogsmeade.  Today had started with Sunday Mass but was ending with a party.  A housewarming party.  Whose guest list included himself, a house elf, an 88-year-old muggle woman with Alzheimer’s, a German Shepherd and the guest of honor, a centaur.  But, that was exactly how his weekend was ending: leaning against the outer chimney wall of a centaur-sized cottage, waiting for the six-appendaged guest of honor to arrive while a house elf was fussily trying to offer food to the older muggle. 

If there was an odder social gathering anywhere, Sascha wanted to see it for proof. 

The Alsatian, lying faithfully at his feet, heard the subtle flaring of flames from inside the house and hopped to his feet and trotted around the corner to greet the newest full time resident of the Schlagenweit estate.  Sascha arched his shoulders and pushed himself up off the stone wall and followed Baldur into the shadows of the cottage.  Just as he had while the building was being constructed, he got the strange, unsettling feeling of being a being a doll inside a child’s room.  Everything was sized with a centaur in mind: from the height of the ceiling, windows and dining table in the main room to the overall size of the floo-connected fireplace.  The doorway in the corner, leading to the bedroom, was tall enough for him to ride a horse through. 

Baldur neither seemed to notice the scale difference nor care.  He was far too interested in the proverbial elephant in the room.  He approached the centaur with the perception of confidence, extending his neck out to sniff curiously at the long legs.  Sascha couldn’t help but wonder what the dog smelled: did he just smell horse or could he tell the difference? 

“Good afternoon,” he offered, taking a step forward before hesitating, slightly.  “I’m afraid I am not as familiar with the rules of etiquette among centaurs as I am with our customs.”  Now there was a monumental sized understatement.  “I’d normally be inclined to offer to shake hands but I don’t want to accidentally insult you.  But, well, welcome home.  I hope this works.”

Marida stepped out of the fireplace and looked about her immediate surroundings, she gave a nod and then smiled. "It is...wonderful. Thank you." She said in her calm and serene voice. She looked down at the dog that had run up to her and then lowered her body so she would be able to give it a rub on its ears. "Handshakes are fine, however I find them rather weird why a person would do one, and there are ways to do them based on the situation. If easier there is my preferred method." She reached an arm forwards so they could clasp at eachothers forearms.

She removed a sack that had been over her shoulder, wearing a few saddle bags on her back to carry items about and a sack over her shoulder. On her upper torso she had a button up white shirt that she did not seem to be enjoying but wore it for courtesies sake. "It is very big and spacious, was it difficult for you to make? I can see it being difficult for you to get around certainly..." She said as she looked over the sizes of the furniture and windows.

She opened up the sack she had taken off her shoulder, pulling out 3 large bottles, all seem to be around 2,000ml however each is off and different, not mass produced like most bottles. "I was told that a house warming, is like a celebration. I do not know if you had anything nor what...magical people use for celebrations. So I have what at home we use for celebrations." She brought the bottles to the table and put them down. "I believe you call them...Cider and Mead? Two of these are cider. There are more apples and orchards then there is of honey."

She made sure they were placed carefully then put the bag down. "Hhhm, you may have trouble reaching some things..you could ride one of your horses in here yes? Or." She looked out of a window and gave a sigh. "I guess...in gratitude and just for this evening. You could ride on my back, and I won't kick you off..." She stretched her upper body, then started on getting her upper body limber, rolling her head about on her neck and rolling her shoulders backwards. "If you desire to, but only this once. And you would not be permitted to tell anyone or there will be a well placed arrow."

"I'm glad you think that," Sasha offered, with a grin, as he reached up to grasp the centaur's forearm.  Because, apparently, they were all about arm-shakes while hand shakes were considered 'weird.'  At the very least, this afternoon would prove to be an interesting exploration of a very different culture.  Perhaps if, for whatever reason, his science-magic studies didn't work out, he supposed he could always become an ambassador to centaurs.  If there was such a thing.

Sasha took a step back and out of the way as the centaur divested herself of her bags and seemed to take a look around the room.  Whether the cabin had been difficult to build wasn't the easiest question to answer.  On one hand, it had been easier than his first venture into magical architecture: logistically, it had been much straight-forward than reconstructing Schloss Zweiselberg.  On the other hand, there had been a lot more unknowns: what kind of kitchen did centaurs need?  Not to mention how one was supposed to plan the washroom and toilet.  There were surprisingly few resources on the matter, as well, and his attempts to locate centaur-oriented interior design magazines at Flourish and Blotts had only earned him an accusation of time-wasting and a curt dismissal.   

"It was an interesting exercise," he admitted, as he watched the Alsatian turn away from the centaur and trot curiously through the door into the bedroom.  "Magic, obviously, helps with the actual construction.  I'm afraid I took some creative liberties and outright guesses with practicalities and design.  If you find something doesn't work or needs adjustment, it should be easy enough to do.  I couldn't find a lot of precedent for it." 

Sasha nodded and grinned as the centaur extracted three bottles from her bags and set them on the table.   "It is like a celebration.  To be honest, I was raised by muggles so I'm not really an expert when it comes to what magical people do.  But, I think alcohol is universal.  And food - which we have a little of outside.  With the other party guests."  If that term could really be used for a house elf and old woman.  To avoid getting the centaur's hopes up, Sasha added: "just other residents of the property, really.  Apart from the animals.  Though, we'll probably be the only ones drinking." 

Initially, Sasha was quick to shake his head and dismiss the notion of riding one of the horses into the cottage.  Yes, it would solve the height problem but it would create all new problems.  "I'm afraid they aren't exactly house-trained and I don't usually - "  Sasha blinked and stared at the centaur, trying to convince himself her offer had actually happened.  And, was real.  Ride a centaur.  He knew how rare such a thing was and, purely for the sake of politeness, was tempted to dismiss the offer.  But, at the same time, he was also curious and when would such an opportunity ever come again?  He shouldn't be so quick to pass up on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"If you're sure you won't mind," he countered, if only for curiosity's sake.  "You have my word I wouldn't tell a soul." 

Marida opened the other bags she had and set them down on the table, then proceeded to remove the saddlebags. "Do not fret too much, I don't even think at home we have a way of constructing places to live really. Atleast nothing specific or set like in this world." She turned to face the door and nodded at the mention of other guests. "I tried to invite a Balfour Spectre? The head of the beasts division? However I only got back a letter saying to not ask a superior. Which is interesting. As I am the superior runner and I am certainly able to lift more then him."

She looked over at the alcohol again then at Sasha. "The other residents, I believe you said before...a grandmother and an elf?" She went to take the bottles, if the others were outside she may aswell take them along, incase the others can't reach. She removed them from the table and placed back into the bag for carrying. "I remember someone saying about...getting drunk? When I was asked about what the bottles are. However I have drunk many a drink and nothing unusual has happened. They said it was common with alcohol so I said yes. I do drink them. They seemed a bit annoyed and gave up."

Once she secured the bottles around herself she lay down, shifting a little to make sure she isn't difficult to get ontop of, not having experience of people riding on her back. "I've not had someone ride me before, and I am not wearing a saddle, so be careful staying on me. And be careful as to where you hold me to stay on, I'm not that fleshy so it may be difficult." She closed her eyes and looked like she was using all her concentration to make herself not buck and throw him off when he gets on. "How are your other horses doing if I may ask right now? You said you are taking one with you to places, how are they?"