Hexus

=1= Flight

[9:35PM, November 30. UTC -05:00]

"This is a boarding call for British Airways flight BA-173 to London Heathrow. All passengers please proceed to Boarding Gate 43. Thank you"

Nathaniel exhaled as he sat beside his sister in the departure lounge. They didn't have tickets or boarding passes. They could afford them, but Moira just preferred that they didn't waste money on things she thought were "corporate scams". So, instead, they kept their keen ears pointed towards the public address system, awaiting the final boarding announcements. The people in the area were in a bustle, dragging suitcases, small luggage pieces, carry-alls, prams...

Nathaniel fervently prayed they didn't end up in any coaches with babies. He wasn't in the mood for a nine-hour tolerance test.

"Which seats were free again?"
"57 H and I," he muttered.
"But I wanted first class!"
"First Class is too obvious, Moira."

She sulked and gave a childish pout. But she knew he wasn't going to give in, not after she had conned him into not paying for the flights, knowing how much he hated having it on his conscience. A lifetime together had taught her that.

"Can you at least check if there's space in First Class?"
"I could check business class too," he offered dryly. "Sure, nobody will suspect two teenagers sitting amongst a group of people in suits."
"But I could easily fix that," she smirked. "We can blend in."
"Have you noticed your clothes?"

She looked down and pouted, before releasing a chuckle. With her cropped white sequined jacket over her belly-showing ochre-yellow tank top and faded blue skinny jeans tucked into pink boots, she knew she had lost the bet of blending in. Nathaniel wondered why she chose to dress so immaturely; perhaps she took that "forever young" phrase a little too seriously. He was always in dark shades of gray and black, semi-formal attires so he could fit in with any crowd - perhaps except the sportsmen. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

"This is a final boarding call for all passengers on British Airways flight BA-173. Please complete check-in formalities and proceed to Boarding Gate 43."

"Finally," Moira groaned.
"Are you ready?"
"Come on Nate, seriously?" She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Nathaniel smiled faintly. No signals needed to be given, no counts of three. They just knew. They always knew.

"Hex," they muttered in unison.

Their sphere of influence exploded away from them, washing over everyone in the area. For this location, they needed it to cover every single person. Anyone not caught in it would be a liability.

That's why they chose this spot, in the middle of the airport.

The people stopped in their tracks and the area was engulfed in a deathly silence. Time's influence no longer existed, for they had commandeered it. Nathaniel stood from the bench and helped Moira up, and they walked through the sea of unmoving people and things, winding around their body parts and misplaced objects. Water from the fountains ceased to spray, droplets suspended in mid air. Moira giggled as she touched them. They walked past a woman who was arrested in mid-stride. She was holding a baby and several other plastic bags and pieces of luggage in her hands, and from her posture, Nathaniel could tell she was in a hurry before they stopped her and everyone else. Her face was frozen in shock as the drink she must have been holding was halfway down, on its way to the floor.

"Don't," he hissed as Moira approached her.
"Come on Nate. Can't she get a break?"
"What? A psychotic break? Let her drink fall Moira. Someone will clean it up."
"Can't the cleaners get a break?"

He groaned and exhaled at the same time. He knew Moira always got like this whenever they did the time-grip hex, always trying to fix everything that was awry, as if it was her job to ensure that nobody ever got hurt. He nodded for her to carry on. One person wasn't going to be the end of the world. Moira held on to the cup in mid air, releasing it from their grip and gently placed it back in the woman's hand. She smiled contently back at him and he did his best to return the expression. At least one of them was happy.