Tartarus remained silent for a long time, the room was dead-quiet, except for the large man scribbling nonsense on his notepad, until finally, he parted his lips to speak, taking his line of sight back onto the boy. “They’ll be much better for you. It’ll help your body relax and adjust, and you’ll feel a lot more comfortable and somewhat sane.” His dark optics took their time to glance at the petite frame that sat before him on the opposite side of the grand desk. Peeta looked thin, and malnourished: it wasn’t exactly an attractive sight to the Primordial, even though he often tormented his victims so deep that they feared to move without having been ordered to.
The man kept his ears peeled to his every word that came from his mouth: the nightmares and the visions, it all sounded incredibly fascinating and pleasing to his mind. “Fear of innate images only enhances the fear. Often people will start believing that things in their dreams will be in front of them, simply because they’ve convinced themselves that the thing that they see is there, when it isn’t.” Tartarus finished, and stood, his large hand came to his jaw, caressing the short stubble that grew there. “I’m going to have to take some blood, Peeta.. just to see if the Capitol put anything in there before we can start assessing your state of mind.”
Peeta would fill out once he was able to keep down full meals and allowed to get some sun. He had once been proud of his physique. After managing to survive the first games he had lost a majority of his pupy fat and grew into a body that was fairly toned. He barely recognized the pale, bruise littered body he possessed now. All in time. Peeta assured himself as he listened to his doctor, idly rubbing at his arms. “That’ll be good. Anything to get comfortable and able to sleep through the night would be appreciated.” Peeta spoke as he looked up at his Doctor, giving him a smile in thanks. Peeta understood what the man was saying. He had woken paralyzed in terror prior to being tortured. Images of his first games haunted him, accompanied now by the hellish memories implanted in his brain by the capitol.
Blue eyes went wide at the mention of taking blood. “Alright, as long as you’re gentle about it.” He grinned in an attempt to calm himself. “I’m sure they must have. I can’t remember too many of my sessions there. The only ones I really remember are the beatings.” He swallowed a knot in his throat, his body aching at the recollection of his treatment there. “But, if you must. I’m willing.” Peeta told him with a nod.
