"Isolated or not, I doubt treating our troubles would be the same as those of the humans who populate most of this country..." But, Inkormine could see that the man was embarrassed. If you knew how to look, he was as easy to read as other people, and at least that blush seemed the same as everyone else Inky knew, for why it would be there. He didn't seem to want to be recognized for his work... But he couldn't just retract what he'd already said. "But i'm sure you... uh, had, help." Right, help, when Inky knew how he'd been treated by almost all the doctors. Smooth as a sandblast, Inkormine.
Inkormine followed a polite, to his norm, distance behind Harakas as they walked. It was too far back to talk comfortably, especially since Harakas didn't have eight legs and an abdomen needing that kind of gap behind him. So it was an awkward distance if they were trying to still talk, although they both seemed content to stay quiet for a minute, giving Inky time to look around the cities night streets, to feel the smooth stone under his feet... and to process what he'd been hearing and learning from Haraka. The man's unusual glow was helpful as they walked, although the stars coming out were starting to shine down onto the world, and their light was starting to reveal everything to the spiders widened pupils, lending that glowing sheen to everything as it did every night. And, like many other nights, the gentle glow of starlight over everything brought a small smile to his face. The city was so big and tight and in some cases strange or unattractive, but in the glow of starlight, everything seemed a little nicer, newer.
He was therefore surprised when they turned a small space and suddenly there was grass there, in the middle of the city. Seemed like there was a little natural space there, and that was where the demon man had led them both. Inky looked around at his words, and oddly enough, it did seem very empty, a solitary person walking down the street past the small area like it wasn't even there. That seemed odd, ignoring such a pleasant space on such a fine night like this. But, maybe the man had other things on his mind. Cloth rustling brought Inky's attention back as he saw Hara pulling out some sort of transparent boxy shape from his bag, and starting to unfold it? "This is a very nice spot. I wonder why nobody else is here, its not so late." Said the spider who worked at night as much as the day. The unfolding thing revealed itself to be a transparent table, low to the ground, like it wasn't meant to be used with chairs like all the others outside of his home that Inkormine had seen. Good question was, why did Harakas carry around a folding table like that?
Inky stretched out his central four legs as he crouched down with the others, settling his abdomen lightly to the grass and stretching the others out, settling himself in a nice stable seat. He was partly hoping the relaxed gesture would help Haraka loosen up a little more, people didn't usually stretch out like this unless they were quite comfortable, as it took time to get up from without special training and workouts, much like going from lying on their back to leaping straight onto their feet was extremely difficult for most humans. And, something of a double whammy for Inky, he couldn't move to the rhythm of the heavens like this. Sure he could a little, but almost all his spells were unusable like this. In a strange city like this, that was more of a guard letting down then his seating ever was.
Listening to Haraka speak, left Inky thinking in two minds. In the one, he was sad, the mans story was sad. Dead family, dead people, fear to pursue dreams, it was all stuff that was sad and made him feel sad. But the other, the more analytical one, the one that loaned itself ever so well to various aspects of his life, especially his new guild, was picking out things. Things left unsaid yet said, spoken but not meant to be read into. Learning to use modern tools, implying he'd been fluent in previous tools, that matched up seeing as he was visibly at least 30-something, if he'd ever experimented in his childhood with the tools of the time. Then again, that seemed unlikely, implying even older. The woman who raised him and everyone else he knew dying, he might not have said it but, that seemed to imply a certain amount of cultural destruction at least. A town, or even city gone, if not more, depending just how immensely old he really was. 'Greatest doctor of her time'? At least fifty years, that wasn't a phrase that was really used often. Helping in her clinic implied he'd lied about his age that he'd been when she died, or else he'd been extremely active and mature since he was like, four. His saying he learned doctoring not because of hard work, but just because he had so much time, and implying that his glassworking took at least as long, even the most talented medical students studying constantly took at least five years to learn non-magical medicines alone, or so he understood. Without that work that was going into the decades as well... This math was adding up to put Haraka at hundreds of years old... That couldn't be right, right? But it added up...
Inky shook his head a bit, hoping the distraction of his hard thought wasn't to obvious, trying hastily to cover it like he'd been studying the table that was apparently actually made of glass? Honestly it only took a moment of looking to realize how nice a piece this was. As he touched the table, feeling the contours of the curving sweeping looping patterns, something clicked. This table, and Haraka, were similar. As he spread his hand out, going from a finger along the single lines to feeling the breadth of whole images carefully, cleverly hidden in the designs, his mind spread out, reaching beyond the details to the contexts beyond them. Symbols and even a carving of a person bent over a desk with a single candle and a feather pen came to him through his hand, while his mind grasped that, this table couldn't have been made by someone idly practicing over a long time. This was a product of love and effort of learning and making. But then, so was the kind of knowledge and caring of the man's medical works that everyone in Cephiria had known like its own small gospel, the Savior Angel. He tried to sound like he hadn't truly worked at it it, but that couldn't be true.
"I can see you put a lot of effort into this table, Haraka. It's impressive." Was he only referring to the table? No, of course not, but then, speaking openly and immediatly to the man about what he thought would be unbearably rude at the least, maybe offensive. Probably offensive. And while he didn't mind that quite often, freinds and nobles he tried not to get that bad against. Well, not nobles who were totally out of his reach. "Believe me, your not the only one glad we survived. Although without the help... Your with the trading company?" That was a surprise, he hadn't known the man had, or indeed would have, joined a guild. Something there must have convinced him he could settle down, and stop trying to outrun whatever it was he was afraid of. Not a physical thing, likely his own past. "How remarkable, I just recently joined Silver Wolf myself!" He smiled a bit at that, their guilds being allied meant they would likely not have to oppose each other during jobs. Which he was glad of, too much history already there, at least to him. Even if he was only a pleasant footnote...
"For dinner?" Inkormine asked. He hadn't really been thinking about it, being too focused on the conversation to really consider what the food would be, only that there would be eating and time with the man. But, thinking, he didn't really crave anything from home. There were many good things out here, and he didn't have any especial favorites he couldn't get or make without too much trouble in Magnolia and presumably other large towns. But then, he had a bit of a thought. A curiosity, of many sorts, and the glint of the moon over the horizon seemed to encourage the thought, making him lean forward a bit. "Actually, I have a bit of a preference if its okay. I'd like to try something from your original native country." The man didn't seem to have major reactions referring to his first home or the events that transpired there, so the spider didn't think such a request would cross any line. But he was curious. Curious of the taste, the style, the scent, the way Haraka would react. It seemed almost rude, thinking so hard on the past the man was somewhat trying to conceal, but it was so much, like almost everything he thought he knew was clever artifice over the mans true life... The man who had done so much for him, and was so guarded and... maybe hurt, beneath that.