Xavier visits- infrequently. Perhaps it’s my /roots/ that have left me as the last to hold some measure of faith in that dream.
Perhaps it’s just boredom.
My talents give me an advantage here. A certain je ne sais quoi that other inhabitants lack. Raw clay in a sculptors hands, in a way.
But the thrill is... lacking. The boredom is a cancer, and it consumes.
The astral plane is an expansive canvas. Flowers and mansions and all imaginable niceties are but a veneer over the emptiness. Pleasant to look at- pleasant to live in. But a veneer all the same. A master of misdirection is not so easily sated by illusionary luxury.