The beast glares down on them, malice and greed swirling phlegm-green in the bowels of his eyes. It sends a shudder down her spine, latent embers coiling in repulsion, yet the copper child does not yield; she watches carefully, patiently, familiarity with this process lending her comfortable caution. It is an exchange, she knows - to earn the right of companionship, of familiarity, you must in turn make an offering that proves your worth. So far the girl has been judged unworthy, but perhaps today will be difference. Today, she does not seek this for herself, but for the brother she loves, the fox who is better than her in every conceivable way. She will weather the challenge, overcome the trials, if only the result can be Natraj's happiness, and the strengthening of their bond.

"I desire a crown."

Okay, perhaps not what the girl expected. She has not been asked for something so material before, and for a moment her mind flickers to Ampere; what would the passionate mare think of this? A life for a crown, a soul for a bauble- but the girl has little time to consider it further, for already others are constructing their offerings, preparing their exchange. Uncertain, the girl looks at her surroundings, seeking any inspiration from the barren landscape. Her mind is blank, the wheels in her head turning to little avail. What would Natraj do? What would he suggest?

It hits her, then, as surely as if her brother had suggested it himself: she has to look at herself for the answer. Literally. If Natraj means so much - if this means so much - then she has the tools, the prizes to earn it.

The girl sets to work.

It would be easier with Natraj, his nimble mouth and dainty paws, but the Fire Dancer does what she can. With a wince she clamps and tears at a particularly slender braid, pulling the lock of gold and silver from her tail, her ears falling back at the sharp stab of pain. Then slowly, carefully, she begins to divest herself of prizes, neatly threading each one into the circlet and cursing her awkward, large appendages. Still, the end result is passable - a circle of metallic, ombre braid, with the flowers of gods nestled around the softly glowing rock that once nested in her tail. Only the great moonstone remains around her neck; she has given everything else to this offering, to the promise of hope, to Natraj.

She lays it at the yeti's feet, among the others, and stares at him though onyx eyes, her dark voice quiet in the gathered crowd. She feels naked without the flowers, the familiar light. "This crown is me - my hair, my gifts, my memories. I offer it to you," she whispers, and steps back, bottom lip set in stubborn stiffness, heart beating fast as she hopes that it - that she - is enough.

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Tandavi's crown is made of her flowers (purple from Moon God, blue from Sparky, orange from Earth) and the small glowing crystal Kahlua gave her, all entwined in a braided circlet of her hair.
Seeks a dragon
Refusal 1
Refusal 2
Refusal 3
"talk talk"