In the human world, magic, no matter how powerful the spell, would eventually give out to time. How much time was simply a matter of the power of the witch or witches that created the spell. But before she could tell him what she remembered of her human life as a witch under the mastery of her mother and aunt, he was answering the last part of her curiousness. The tomes don't like company, that brought a smile to her face and a soft laughter bubbled up in that moment.
It was a little sad that he didn't have the full answers that she was seeking about the tome in question, but then he brought up asking someone else and then getting back to her. She smiled and nodded. "I would appreciate that very much Jesse. Might I ask who it is you know that you plan to ask? I haven't really had a chance to meet a lot of people and knowing another Ritualist would be nice. It feels like a life time ago that I was in something akin to a coven." She said, making sure that her bags were safe as were the things she bought within them.
"Oh, and going back on something you said earlier. I don't know how it works with the fae, but my mother and aunt always told me that magic will always wane. It is the nature of magic. It waxes and wanes just as the moon does." She said softly, in that moment of talking, her voice had taken on a slightly musical tone. It rose and fell as if each word out of her mouth was a spell in the process of being created. It was the only hint she held from her past that she had been born with power, the power of witches. A power that seemed to now be in its own waning stages given that she was no longer of nature. Power yes, but nature. She doubted, though she was nothing like some of the others she knew of, that mother nature would no longer see her as a part of nature itself.