#sigraffi

Raffina sneezed as her eyes fluttered open, body heavy and mind groggy despite not moving an inch from her bed. She groaned as she woke up against her will, preferring to sleep through her illness rather than be awake to experience all the nasty symptoms it brought with it. Argh, damn allergy season, and damn the colds that came along with it!

“You seem sick.” Sig commented from the end of her bed, and Raffina was confused for a brief second at his presence before remembering that he had come to visit with Amitie and Lidelle after news of her illness reached her friends.

“Gee, you think?” She rolled her eyes, voice creaky and very unladylike, though she was too tired to care about that. She pushed herself up, but then clutched her head to try and stop it from spinning, letting out a tiny hiss.

“How long did I sleep?” She muttered once the headache settled down, recalling that before she had taken a nap there were two other people in the room.

“A while.” Sig shrugged. “Lidelle had to go. Amitie went with her.”

“And you stayed?”

“Didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“Oh. That’s…sweet.” She rubbed one of her arms with her other hand, and felt all the goosebumps lining her skin. Was her room awfully cold, or was it just her?

Sig just nodded slowly in response. He lifted a finger to point at her side table, and the tray on top of it.

“Guy brought it in earlier. Said you should drink it.”

Raffina turned to look, and noticed the rather large bowl of brownish translucent liquid with small bits of melon and cut up fish bobbing up and down inside it. Ah, wintermelon soup, one of her favorites.

“Thanks.” She muttered, reaching a hand out towards it feebly, only to quickly realize she was too far from it from her position in the middle of her queen sized bed.

Sig noticed and scooted over close to the table to grab the bowl with his right hand, using his left claw to gently hold the metal soup spoon. He scooped some of the liquid and lifted the spoon up to her, the overflowing soup dripping safely back into the bowl.

“Ah, you don’t have to feed me. I-I can drink it myself—”

“Say aaaah.” Sig moved the spoon closer to her face, blinking expectantly at her. She looked embarrassed but relented, opening her mouth to accept the warm soup, feeling it slide down her throat and clear up some of the phlegm that was making it sore.