[It's warm. But it's always warm now, if not just plain hot. The Old Woman has been merciless since that day last year, when a blinding flash lit the sky. Noric's been increasingly away, has been gone a couple of months this time, not sending word as he used to.

Sometimes, those who know of Xavier's knowledge have come to him, demanding to know when this heat will end, why their monsters continue to die, experiments ruined. But that has stopped, recently. Other things to consider, one supposes.

It's warm.]