∑(n) {Sum of N}

"Here! I just wanted to make sure you ate well today." She makes no comment on his kitchen's state of disaster, choosing instead to flash him a big smile. "Happy Birthday, N!"

It's a mitigated disaster, at least. Most of the mess is relegated to the countertop ... and two of the Larvesta, and the front of N's apron. The berry filling had apparently spilled at some point, and the flour had, unsurprisingly, covered far more surfaces than it had any good reason to. N is taking the last of his own baked creations out of Alder's oven when Rosa arrives, and the whole kitchen smells of tangy sweet qualot berry and only slightly burnt pastry.

He beams at the sight of Rosa's pies, especially once he recognizes the letter cut into the crusts. "Thank you!" He takes a moment to smell one of them, getting in close to get their scent over the sweeter scent of the dessert pies.

Still, he'd been expecting a full-on disaster, He bit into the most destroyed of the set, and it tasted fine, even where the overflowing filling had blackened in the oven. The berries had cooked thoroughly, and even if the crust didn't complement the pie well, it didn't detract, either.

This was ... alright. He'd do better next year, maybe, but these would be okay for now.

The cool air the dragon of truth has stirred up is soothing, causing for her to close her eyes for a mere moment. She opens them once more when Reshiram speaks, merely giving him a nod to show her understanding. The dragon is right afterall, they are both shaken and lucky to be alive. They need to get somewhere safe and clean up before their will be an opportunity for a real conversation. 

Zekrom continues to let her lean against them, and while the adrenaline is starting to fade, it hasn’t truly set in yet that if it weren’t for the dragons’ interference she wouldn’t be alive.

With Zekrom supporting her, and the Larvesta’s presence against her, she feels herself beginning to calm. That is, until the words N has spoken reach her ears. “No,” She blurts out at once, gaze shifting from N to Reshiram. Fumbling slightly, she shifts her weight to stand on her own. The dizziness she feels hasn’t improved, and the thought of going to Opelucid’s hospital from here isn’t helping. It feels too similar to three years back, when the league had deemed that she needed her injuries looked at, when her Samurott’s wounds had needed more treatment than the healing items she’d had on her could provide. The mere thought of it all made her stomach turn. “We’ll attract too much attention in Opelucid, I really don’t want to pull others into this. I’ll be fine after a few days I’m sure.”

This is the part where he should argue. Where he should insist. She's hurt. A head injury. That's not something he should try to look after on his own. She needs humans. Ones who know what they're doing. His mind tumbles back to the forest, and the broken tree branch, and the scolding she'd given him about first aid. Not him. Not for so many reasons.

He should argue, but he's horrible instead: he's too exhausted to even try. Every nerve is raw, and every muscle is weak, and his mouth still tastes like vomit and dust and a bit of blood. And worse, he's relieved, because he absolutely does not want to go to Opelucid, and the only reason he would is because he needs her to be safe.

He leans his head back and stares at the sky until the vertigo of all that blue makes him shift it back to the treeline. "I--I'll take you home, then. Nuvema. You--"

But she shoots that down, too, and he's horrible and relieved again; no, he doesn't want to go there, either, not at all.

Another half-dozen suggestions and a fit of coughing go by (can't escape the castle: it travels with you, it fills your lungs and chokes you, can't get free--) and he's wrecked. Tapped. Fully empty. He's stopped staring at the sky to curl in against his knees. If he thinks about anything too hard, he knows he’ll be useless. More useless than now.

Get her somewhere safe. Get them somewhere safe. Hilda, Zekrom, Reshiram, Umber ...

"I have ... I have to take Umber home. Alder's. Cabin. He won't mind. Mountains. Quiet. 'S far, though. Is that alright?"

White Knight

Well, this is odd. Someone knew where he was staying and came all the way into the mountains to leave him a gift? N doesn't recognize the initials, either. Who might he have been asking for information about romance?

The pokemon insist that none of them happened to see whomever dropped off the package. They were all busy with other things when it arrived.

Highly unusual.

N is even more confused when he opens the box. He recognizes the style of cover on these books. In fact, he recognizes two he had already read, having been tucked into the small bookshelf in Alder's guest room. One had been wholly unbelievable and confusing, but the other had been an unexpectedly charming study of human relationships. He wishes he could remember which Alder had said had the more realistic representation of the two.