The Sunspire obvious

The words he said meant the world to Hydra, who trusted very few herself. But it gave her no doubts or fear. She trusted Lyra more than she trusted anything else, and she would know if something was amiss—Lyra would be devastated if her healing was not effective. His soft words were held within her heart, and Hydra replayed them many a time. She also contemplated what was the best thing to do; she did not know how to handle the sadness of any other but her family, and even then she was not the most suited to deal with such a task. 

Of course, as she dwelled on these things, and as she thought of Rian, she had stumbled—before she knew it, he was beside her, and she hardly heard his question. Her eyes were locked on the sharp jade of his, and it was Hydra, now, who felt the heat rush to her throat, to her face, right to the tip of her ears. This close, she could see every shade upon his face, and the sharpness of his jawline. The chocolate hue upon his cheeks looked particularly soft, and the jade of his eyes contrasted brilliantly against the burnt sienna beneath it. Oh, no,—she was flustereld, and dizzied as she had never been, and she who was all confidence and poise floundered for a moment as her heart thundered. I-I'm alright, she breathed, turning on her heel and tearing her gaze away. She began to move again, slower this time. Hydra liked this proximity, this nearness, and thought she'd like to keep it... though wondered if that was smart, given how distracted she felt.

Are you okay? She asked, peering over her shoulder coyly, in a manner she knew Alya would be proud of—her recovery was swift as she warred against herself and these tingling sensations that had taken root in her toes. Are you okay—what a stupid question! You were the one who fell!