The sun was set low in the sky, carefully reflecting off the surfaces in the dimly lit encampment. Quiet sounds of sorrow echoed from within the tent where injured lay, bringing the attention of the Warden down upon the camp that quiet dusk. The quiet noise of chains was able to be heard just outside the tent, as Thresh’s fiery hand touched the tarp and pulled it to the side, able to sense the soul nearly escaping the body.
He knew he had to have it. Another for his collection. And he could sense the magic within it as well, knowing it would only serve to make him more powerful. The lantern hung low beneath his waist, barely held by the skeletal hand as he stepped inside, glancing around before heading to one of the few truly dying rebels. He raised his hook before he tore through one of them, thankful that he wouldn’t have conflict for his first reaping that early night.
“You will only serve to make me more powerful.” He whispered to the soul, before he opened the lantern with the key at his waist and brought it up, the soul painfully being sucked into the lantern as quiet wails escaped it for but a moment, and he locked it again. Hearing a noise, Thresh glanced beside him in caution as he raised his hook, ready to strike someone down if need be.
@thornsofrevolution
