Once the inhabitant of the bus hears the tinkling of cold, hard currency, a giant hand with chipped nail paint squeezes out the front folds of the giant bus and opens a palm.

She dumps a hundred purple rupees into the fairy's hand, one (Zelda-sized) fistful at a time.

The hand is trembling by the time the last fistful hits the pipe, and after a few seconds passes and no more is forthcoming, it closes and retreats back into its home.

A few more seconds pass with no response, and Link begins to wonder if it was a scam, implausibly large giant hand or not.

Then the ground begins to quake. The grass underfoot begins to rustle, and as they watch, new shoots spring out of the ground, flowers blooming around them by the second. 

Probably not a scam, then! Probably.

"You seem much improved," she ventures.

"Hmm... I..."

A dreamy sigh escapes from the plant bud.

"The power..."

The earth lurches, like it's about to split open.

"I'm... it's... overflowing!"

A wave of power erupts outwards, knocking Zelda off her feet. The bud bursts open, unfurling into glorious pink and gold leaves, and a gigantic woman explodes out of its center in a great spray of water, wreathed in gemstones and glittering scales.

A truly glamorous hairdo curls over her head, larger than her face, magnificient enough to rival the chosen of any Spirit. Her tremendous bangles and collar of silver and opal catch the dim moonlight with impossible sparkle, interspersed with the slow rain of glimmering droplets, seeming to light the clearing like a sun in the dark. Piano music fills the air as she cries out in guileless joy, arms held aloft as if reaching for the sky.

Her motionless dance seems to capture the eye of the beholder, endlessly enchanting and powerful in an incomprehensible way, like one's soul is about escape their body, drawn into its titanic gravity. Link finds himself magnetized, unable to look away. It feels like an eternity and not time at all—

But when the glittering water spray finally speckles the dirt and the musical accompaniment settles to a more understated sonata, the woman collects herself and sinks back down, pinning her gaze on her visitors, and returning volition of their senses.

She touches the back of her hand to her chin, musing, "You are the ones who restored me, I see."

Her voice weaves itself into their ears like music.

"I am the Great Fairy Cotera," she laughs, touching the fairy wings behind her ears. "You have earned my favor, I must say. What wonderful a day. It has been too long since I bloomed with such power. Now, what may I do for you?"

Wow. What a lady.

Come on, Zelda, get ahold of yourself.

"You have fantastic hair. —that's not a request, just an observation."

That does not qualify as getting ahold of yourself!!!

"I do!" the Great Fairy giggles. She runs a hand through it, and it returns to its original, outrageous shape. Or is it different now? She peers at Zelda, a smile on her lips. "I would offer to glamor you up, but you don't need that, do you?"

She winks an beryl eye.

"It's true, I don't!"

Okay, maybe she's on slightly better mental footing now.

"I admit, I don't actually know what is customary to request. I came here chasing a rumour because it seemed prudent to consult with powerful spirits when trying to defeat Calamity Ganon."

"...Calamity Ganon," says Cotera, her cheer soured, but only a jot. "That awful thing. Great on you, girl, going up against him. If it weren't for his terrible tantrum, I wouldn't be in that sorry state to begin with. My visitors back in the day would ask me for blessings! Clothes, hairdos, shoes. Nobody wants the fashion advice. Oh, and they come by to bottle fairies, of course, and pick my wonderful flowers. Nightshade and the silentbloom are my favorites."

"Really? No one wants your fashion advice? Then your blessings must be powerful indeed, or surely anyone would want to learn how to look so magnificent."

Why is she saying these things? Focus! On practicalities!

"Oh, what a flatterer!" Cotera preens. "My recommendations can be trying for the faint-hearted, but my blessings are exquisite, it is true!

"See your suit there, moon-silk, of Sheikah make, no? On the conservative side, but what a strong current of style, and the history, my. With the right ingredients and a dash of power, I can reweave the thread and bind greater power into it. Protection from blade and arrow, is the usual ask for you mortals. And with help from my wonderful brethren, I can elevate it to even greater heights, binding entire new magics into the cloth!

"Mija and I once crafted a cloak for a Sheikah stal-hunter, oh, seven thousand years ago? It let him become as a shadow in the night: faster, intangible, and oh so stylish the way it fluttered. Sadly, I don't think we can muster the same kind of craft now, even if you restored us all."

"Oh? Why not?" she says, intrigued. "I must say, I wouldn't mind being a stylishly fluttering shadow, if I had the chance."

"No glory lasts forever, my dear. In our full power, we spirits once walked and supped with mortals. Even restored, I'm a bare shadow of what I was in our youth, confined to this last sanctuary of power."

"Hmm," says Zelda. "Well. I'll have to think about that. In the meantime, however," she starts pulling another copy of the stealth suit out of her pocket.

Oh, she's been getting cozy with those forest people already, has she? Though that doesn't look quite like...

"If you want that buffed up for you, it'll take some blue nightshade and another handful of rupees, now! You can pick some from around here, I won't mind."

Since Cotera didn't specify a number, she gets another fistful of fifties—also from Zelda's bottomless pockets—along with a small bouquet of blue nightshade, all freshly picked from the same patch.

"Much too kind!"

The Great Fairy takes the bouquet, plucks the petals from the stems, and rubs them apart between her fingers into a blue, shimmery cloudwisp. She throws the rupees into the air and snaps her fingers: they shatter into sparkling points of light.

She twirls her fingers, and the blue and gold mix together into constellations, then she breathes. The Sheikah clothing flutters aloft to meet the swirl of magic and unravels and reravels at blinding speed as it passes until the hems stitch themselves back closed and the power is bound away once again, in those folds of fabric.

The full set settles back down as Cotera wipes an imaginary drop of sweat from her forehead.

"All done! If you want me to do more, you'll need some sunset motes."

"Sunset motes?"

"Those... what do you call them, that come out when it's about night, flying around, little wee things?"

"I believe we call them fireflies! Sunset fireflies, to be specific."

"Fireflies! How cute. That's probably it. Now, what about your boy there, with the headband? Haven't seen anything like that in quite a few thousand years!"

Link pokes his head up from where he's rooting around the dirt behind a tree.

"Hm?"

"Your headband," says Zelda. "The Great Fairy Cotera is interested in it. A few thousand years, you say? So you're familiar with the style?"

He comes over and takes off his headband, holding it out.