She was tired. So tired. She’d been through so many flights. Wind, Plague, they all blurred into a haze of travel. Even the fae herself could not remember all the homes she’d left.

“I’m too young to feel this old.” She muttered to herself. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could do this. The constant movement, the grind of the Coliseum, the brief friendships made and lost. It was time for a change. She raised weary eyes to the horizon, where heavy storm clouds wrapped around a towering spire. New territory. It was worth a shot.

When she finally arrived, the eternal storm was in full swing. She raised her face to the sky and smiled as the rain washed the dust of the road from her. The crackle of ozone filled her veins with more energy than she’d felt in weeks.

“Good day.” She opened her eyes to see a tall and dark Skydancer gazing at her from the depths of his hood. The fae bristles against attack. This seems to almost amuse the newcomer.
“Calm yourself. I am Haven, ambassador of the Darkhaven Clan. Strangers do not last long on their own here. May I offer sanctuary?”
The fae narrowed her eyes, but gave a cautious nod. Haven tilted his head in the direction of a vast chasm.

“Please, our lair is this way. What may I call you?”

She stared out over the busy desert, alive with lightning rods and bustling dragons. Thunder rolled overhead, and she gives a slight smile.

“I am Tlaloc. I think I will like it here.”

Mortally wounded and turned into a coatl to save?

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Previous appearance?