The Nerve Center: The Tejishtha Office
The heavy oak door stands slightly ajar, its hinges letting out a familiar, low-pitched groan as it swings. Step inside, and the temperature shifts—the biting chill of the stables gives way to a lingering, dry warmth.
The Atmosphere
The air is thick and textured, a heady perfume of aged saddle soap, the bitter steam of a double-shot espresso, and the sweet, dusty scent of sun-warmed hay drifting in from the paddocks. There is a quiet rhythm here: the rhythmic tick-tock of a brass clock on the mantle and the distant, muffled thud of hooves hitting the turf outside.
The Desk
Dominating the room is a massive oak desk, its surface a landscape of history. Your fingers might catch on the fine grain of the wood, worn smooth in spots by decades of resting elbows. It is buried under a sea of tactile treasures:
The Papers: Thick, cream-colored parchment that crinkles under the slightest touch, covered in the elegant, looping ink of pedigree charts.
The Maps: A sprawling show calendar, its edges curled and stained with coffee rings, marked by the aggressive slashes of a neon highlighter.
The Tools: A heavy glass paperweight holding down a stack of registration applications, cold to the touch against the warmth of the room.
The Lore Boards
The walls don’t just hold frames; they hold ghosts. Floor-to-ceiling boards are pinned with faded polaroids, tufts of mane hair taped to index cards, and blue ribbons whose silk has begun to fray at the edges. When the breeze catches them, the papers flutter like a thousand tiny wings, whispering the names of every horse that has ever carried the Tej prefix.
The Archives
In the corner, a library of leather-bound ledgers stands sentinel. These aren't just books; they are the "bones" of the stable. Rub your thumb over the spines and you'll feel the cracked hide and embossed gold lettering. Inside, the pages are soft and thin as onion skin, stained with the occasional smudge of stable grime or a dried teardrop from a long-ago recovery.
A Scrawled Note on the Blotter:
“Mind the clumps of drying mud near the chair—I’ve just come in from the rain. The floorboards creak in the corner, so don't let it startle you. The clipboard by the door has the latest terms; give them a read while the kettle whistles. Make yourself at home.”