"A bit," J'mon replied, carefully tucking a thin piece of paper over the still-drying page, just to ensure that some errant movement didn't smudge it. But that still left the opposite page visible. "I have done a few spellbooks," they continued, resting their chin in one long-fingered hand. "Wizards are, by nature, a bit messy. So when they want to hand their books down to their children or acolytes, they tend to hire someone to neaten it up a bit. It is quite an expensive affair. Special books, special paper, special inks. But the detail," they drew a fingernail over someone of the elaborate gold flourishes at the corners of the page, this one speckled with lush green plants and hints of red orchid-shaped flowers. "The detail does not need to be magical, it just needs to look nice."
This, however, wasn't a spellbook. It was really more of a diary. Each scene had its own motif, lovingly laid out first on the title page - the page that was still visible - and then carried through in smaller details throughout the page. It was, perhaps, a unique way to go about things. But everyone needed a hobby. And one never stopped getting better when it came to art.
"The desert," J'mon answered. "That is where I am from. The mountains, originally, but my city is its own little oasis. Cooler climates simply have never agreed with me very much." The snow had been miserable, but it was still chilly and damp and J'mon would rather be inside than out in it. Perhaps they had gotten a little spoiled in recent centuries, but if they had the choice, it was an easy one to make.