head underwater | dom & mad, jb

Madelyn Sinclair

---

It's been a while since I'd seen him. The wounds have healed between the two of us, although the shiny scar still remains in the two spots he got the deepest, yet for a career as I call myself, it's a mark of something more. It also symbolized I won the first fight, but as the reaping came and went yet again, I noticed just who was taken for sacrifice and the entire quick fight we embarked upon came reeling back to me.

Nic couldn't even win the first round although we were pretty much even if I hadn't gotten that one last hit in, it would have been me to be damaged too far to fall. It was only by the grace of ripred that I made it through the round, despite losing the next. I hated it though because my deal to meet up with him was postponed and eventually forgotten until now.

"Hey, Nic, is it? It's been a pleasure to meet you. Maybe after this, we can surf?"

"I was never much of a surfer, anyways,"

"I like you..."

"You know, I like you too, Madelyn,"

"You've got good sportsmanship."

"Good - sportsman ship. Nah, I just like to win."


"Let me take care of you after this?"

The echos are real as the door to his room comes into view. Whoever was visiting him before my presence glanced at me and as I walked further on by them, I swear I could feel eyes on me. I gulped before I touched the door knob and I walked right in with the biggest smile on my face. He was sitting in the armchair, just waiting for what was about to be the worst experience of his life. Worst then the tournament...

"Well, look who couldn't get enough of the tournament. So, just because you couldn't beat me, you gotta by like my brother and try to one up me? Hope you do better then you did against me in that tournament." It's a jest, but really, my stomach is churning for him. He's too sweet to be hacked to pieces against someone who doesn't know him.

Madelyn Sinclair

---

He could have been a friend. He could have been a great friend. He could have been something more than a friend if only things might have turned out to be different. Had we tried to communicate after the tournament, which we never did, I might not be here where he stands awaiting the very minute within this hour to pack up nothing he owns and be taken away. I realize that I don't want him to be taken from what he knows and loves and whatever family and friends he has. I also realize that I am none of those things to him. Just someone he decided to fight and has no loyalties to each other yet here I stand before him. My eyes peering over him, accusingly to not make someone else stand in his place.

I blink a few times when he counters my remarks. A smile at this time is the only thing I can offer that isn't regret because he don't need that. He needs confidence and advice. Maybe even a bit of luck.

"I mean no one is better than me... despite losing the second round. The guy was a complete asswipe and I gave in too early because my brother lost. I proved my point early on." I shrug and walk into the room further and inspect the desk in the room. "Same but too late now, ammiright?" The words blend together.

"Besides, losing in the tournament wasn't life or death. You are going to have to fight harder and not worry if they are younger or prettier than Snow... well, was Snow." A delightful curve of my right cheek flourished with a dimple. That's when I bring my hand up to my neck, rubbing behind my hair that covered the scar and I remember vaguely that we gave each other matching marks. I pull my hair up, exposing the raised scar and turn to him.

"Nic, we match. Okay?" Letting my hair down, I turn to him and approach him and gently caress the scar on his neck. "don't stick your neck out for anyone else, you hear me?"