Search And Destroy
"...Ooh..." Freya curls her lips as she stares at Atreus, "...So you knew?" she asks.
The boy pauses, furrowing his brows as he returns the intense gaze, "Uh... Know what?" he asks.
"That I'm Freya," the Goddess responds with quick words, laying her head to the side on the back of the long sofa.
Atreus gasps, "You're Freya!?" he stands from the sofa with wide eyes, stepping away from the woman slowly.
Freya raises her head again with furrowed brows, "Are you afraid? Why?..." the Goddess stands, heels clicking until she arrives before Atreus. A dainty hand raises to his cheek, and the boy backs away another step, "...I would never hurt you, Atreus."
A thud echos quietly through the large room, and Atreus glances back as his leg meets the edge of a glass table. His icy blue eyes return to the beautiful woman before him, "...I don't even know you, so why would I believe that? Everyone warned me about you... Even father," he responds with focused eyes.
Silence falls like an iron anvil, and Freya's violet eyes linger on the boy for a moment. Suddenly, she sighs and turns, those heels clicking until her plump but tight backside meets the soft cushions of that sofa. She leans forward, her pale skin glistening in the light of those chandeliers as she grabs a glass with dark red liquid swirling inside, "...And you would believe them?" she asks with a vexed glance.
Atreus scoffs, the muscles in his body relaxing slightly as he stares at Freya, "You kidnapped me, so yes... I do believe them," he responds.
"Kidnapped?..." The Goddess giggles, "...I think of it as a meeting delayed for far too long," she says, tipping the glass to her lips. A moment passes, and Freya's lips leave a red lipstick stain on the glass as she lowers it to her lap, "Won't you sit, please? My neck grows tired from looking up at you..."
Atreus nods, and after a short pause, the boy moves towards a loveseat settled adjacent to the sofa, his eyes focused on the goddess as if the woman is a ferocious beast. He settles into the cushions slowly, "...Can I ask you a question?" Atreus asks as he leans deep into the seat.
Freya nods as her lips curl, "Of course," she responds, raising that glass once again.
Atreus purses his lips as he attempts to find the right way to word his question, "Well, um... Why are you doing this? Out of all the people in this city, why bother me and my father?" he asks.
The glass lowers again, and that red liquid is reduced to merely a swallow. Freya sits with that smile nowhere to be seen, "There is quite a bit to unravel there... Are you sure you want to hear it?" she asks.
Atreus scoffs, "It's not like I have much else to do right now..." he responds.
Freya nods with and that drug-like giggle flows again, "...I guess not, huh?" she says, "Well, I'll just go ahead and say one thing before anything else... I don't know where you came from, but I'm sure of one thing; you did not come from this world."
Silence falls again, and Atreus stares with wide eyes at the Goddess, "...Uh... What are you talking about?" he responds as a pit sinks into the boy's stomach.
"Why do you look as if you've been caught stealing?..." Freya says as that smile returns to her shiny lips, "...It's okay, I have no reason to tell anyone... You see, I made a deal with someone before I descended from heaven, and because of that, I have access to some of my previous powers. One of those lovely little gifts is the ability to see souls. I can even see yours right now," the Goddess says.
The little Jötun furrows his brows as the woman finishes her words, "What does that have to do with anything?" he asks.
Freya nods, "That's what I was getting to..." she says as that glass clanks against the glass table, "...Every soul, strong, weak, good, evil, they all have a faint glimpse of the earth tucked behind everything else, and you also have that small glimpse, but it's different. I can't put my finger on exactly what is different about it, but I know I'm right."
Freya's words linger in the air for a moment, and Atreus sits with pursed lips, his eyes roaming to any and everything other than the Goddess before him. The woman's elegant giggle flows through the lavish room once again as she sets her eyes to the disturbed boy, "It's okay, Atreus... I know I have not been the best when it comes to resisting my urges, but I would never you or your father. I want quite the opposite actually. I have been watching you two since you walked from the dungeon that day, and after witnessing your relationship with your father, I find myself wanting a part in it."
Atreus furrows his brows as he listens closely, "You... You want to be like my mother?" he asks.
Freya nods, that smile stretching farther across her face, "Yes, I believe that would be the best way to put it," she responds.
A wrinkled forehead stares back at Freya as she finishes her words, and Atreus suddenly stands from the loveseat. His fists are closed tight enough to turn his knuckles white, and he grinds his teeth as a nerve is struck by the lingering words, "You should give up... Unless there is a woman that can win the love of my father, no one will ever be able to fill my mother's shoes...," he says, though the boy suddenly chuckles as he falls to the loveseat with curled lips, "You could try, but I wouldn't get your hopes up... Father is stingy with his love, even for me."
Freya takes the last swallow of that red liquid, spinning the neck of the glass between slim fingers as that smile plasters her face, "We'll see..." she says, "...I have my ways of winning the love of men."
---
Boots meet the bedrock in a rhythm through the long and jagged tunnels of the fifteenth floor. Other than the rhythmic clicking, eerie silence fills the labyrinth, and if one were to listen closely, they would find that one pair of boots moves faster than the other.
Kratos steps quickly through the cave, his eyes darting every which way as he continues his long search. However, as the God hears limping steps and labored breaths from behind, he is reminded of a lingering annoyance.
Mimir suddenly sighs, "...This is downright sorry... Brother, will you not help the boy? It makes me sick to see someone struggle so much," he says as those glowing golden eyes stare at the lagging boy.
Kratos sighs in response, halting his steps and turning his body halfway as his vision meets the sorry sight of Bell. The boy seems to be on the brink of collapsing with those bodies weighing heavy on his shoulders, but strangely, Bell furrows his brows as he catches up with Kratos, panting heavily for a moment before he looks skyward, "What's up? Why are we stopping?" he asks.
Suddenly, Kratos moves towards the boy, and Bell sighs in relief as the scarlet-haired teen is taken from him. The Spartan carries the teenage boy over a shoulder, his eyes lingering on Bell as he turns to continue his path, "Keep moving," his deep and rough voice echos through the cave.
Bell follows the command with a smile, finding a pep in his limp with the weight taken from him. The boy smiles as he stares at the black armor covering Kratos' back, "Sir? What level are you?" he asks.
Kratos grunts in response, the eerie silence taking over once again as the pair travels along the cave. Bell releases a nervous chuckle, "With what I just saw in the boss room, you're at least a level six... What familia are you in?" the boy asks another question.
"I have no reason to tell you. Now cease your words, I need to focus," Kratos responds as his eyes drift to every nook and cranny before him
Bell purses his lips as he stares at the passing bedrock, suddenly furrowing his brows as his eyes return to Kratos, "You said you fell from the fourteenth floor, right? But... We've been on this floor for hours and I havent seen any evidence of that. The only thing that could mean is..." the boy suddenly raises his brows as he realizes something.
"What is it?" The Greek God asks with furrowed brows as he glances back.
"I'm sure you know that the dungeon changes with each visit, but it only does that if there are no adventurers left on a floor. You said he was injured too, which means he didn't leave himself, so that means either someone took him or..." Bell pauses with pursed lips as his eyes drift to the ground.
"...He's dead..." Mimir mutters, the words sour as they leave his beard-covered lips, "...Well, let's assume the former. Someone took the boy from this floor, but who could it be?" he asks.
Kratos grunts as his cold eyes return to the path before him. The God begins to quicken his steps as a rough hand balls to a fist, "...We will find out," he hisses.