Joe Spivey - Sat, 02/13/2016 - 7:26am
((I at last found a picture that does justice to my concept of the Troy family headquarters seven hundred years after the end of the Clone War))
Joe Spivey - Fri, 01/29/2016 - 3:03am
The following morning there was a note with breakfast.
Dear Professor Hill.
Joe Spivey - Sat, 01/16/2016 - 5:46am
Bodil’s eyelids drifted slowly upwards, the right eyelid seeming to require all the effort her barely conscious brain could muster. Then her priorities changed and the right eyelid remained at half-mast while the brain’s resources were channeled towards reading the glowing blue numerals on her bedside clock. ’03:01’ Its task done, Bodil’s brain was left to wonder why it always had to be three in the morning.
Joe Spivey - Wed, 01/13/2016 - 5:19am
Professor Hill’s previous search had resulted in her sitting on the dusty floor of the archive in the middle of a circle of neat piles of paper. The search on Joe Spivey hadn’t resulted in a ‘neat’ anything and some of what she was reading was downright creepy.
Joe Spivey - Fri, 01/08/2016 - 1:03pm
Ellie pulled off the thin latex gloves with a casual elegance born from long practice. She rolled them into a neat ball and tossed them into the wire waste basket next to the desk where she sitting. Her steel grey eyes stared at the crushed but recognisable gold and bejewelled automaton, now innocently imobile on the desktop, while the pencil thin line of her mouth betrayed a gamut of negative emotions.
Joe Spivey - Sat, 01/02/2016 - 5:53am
It was hungry. The hunger never went away, not entirely. The passage from day to night was no longer cognate with the abstract label called a ‘day’. Such mental constructs were well beyond its pulped and botched brain functions. But it knew that there had been ‘time’ since its last meal and it new that this time was bigger than some of the other times it had experienced. It was hungry.
Joe Spivey - Wed, 12/02/2015 - 3:01pm
Joe shifted down to a safer gear for the rough dirt track. But still the car bounced and lurched along in a cloud of brown dust and the screech of protesting shock absorbers.
"Ow!. Shit!" He grimaced and wondered if his spine was going to survive the journey. He was getting too old for this.
Joe Spivey - Mon, 11/09/2015 - 5:38am
Archaeologists tend to love digging holes and getting their knees and fingers dirty. Perhaps it’s a throwback to early childhood and playing around in the sand pit. Archaeologists tend not to love sitting in libraries at a desk piled high with books or at a computer screen where access to social media has been blocked by some university admin.
Joe Spivey - Fri, 10/30/2015 - 8:48am
Inside the museum it was pleasantly cool but there was something different from yesterday. A strange smell that grew stronger as Bodil and Victor wound their way through the exhibit stands to the doors that led to the conservation area beyond. It took Bodil a few seconds to recognise the odour before memories of sun-soaked parties on the golden beaches above the submerged ancient city of Rio de Janeiro brought it back to her in a wave of hedonistic nostalgia. Seaweed. Old, rotting seaweed.
Joe Spivey - Tue, 10/27/2015 - 7:31am
Bodil was propped up in bed enjoying yet another wonderful breakfast. It had been served by the same young man from yesterday and, between mouthfuls of perfectly cooked bacon and sips of rich-people coffee, she watched him as he pottered around the suite refreshing flowers and tying back the drapes and doing the half dozen or so other little jobs created just by the professor occupying the room. Smalltalk had revealed that the boy’s name was Arno, which apparently means ‘eagle’.
Joe Spivey - Tue, 04/28/2015 - 7:50am
Joe was sitting in a quiet corner of his favourite watering hole when the door opened and Tukiko Troy stepped across the threshold. Joe looked up from his suds. Tuki appeared a tad annoyed about something and possesed of a certain Hyle-like determination in her demeanor that made Joe think that genetic traits might, in fact, be contageous after all. Sighing, Joe put the glass back down on the wet, mug-ringed tabletop as Tuki marched across the sawdust strewn floor towards his little haven. "Here we go." He muttered under his breath.
Joe Spivey - Mon, 03/09/2015 - 9:39am
When Bodil made her way back to her room after the meal with Ellie, there was indeed a grey suited man waiting outside her door. He was sitting on a chair reading a newspaper. When he noticed the professor approaching along the corridor he folded the newspaper neatly and put it under his chair. Bodil noticed a thermos flask and a small tin box, just large enough to hold a couple of sandwiches, also standing neatly next to the wall. The man stood up, straightening his jacket.
“Good evening Professor.”
Joe Spivey - Tue, 02/03/2015 - 6:31am
Waiters are very good at not hearing anything. They just carry on doing what they do even though you and your companions might be talking in great detail about the most intimate things. Waiters are the magical pixies that make your food appear. They are a smile on legs, but they have no ears.
Even so, Ellie waited until they had left before responding.
Joe Spivey - Thu, 01/01/2015 - 12:49pm
Bodil let it drop. The last thing she wanted was to make enemies of these nice people. And anyway, she thought, hiding a smile, it wasn’t everyday she got to meet ‘fans’ of her work. She headed back into the archive where she resumed her place on the dusty floor. Bodil read through her copious notes. The Baka Neko lead seemed to be drying up. She flicked backwards and forwards through the pages, hoping to spot something she had missed.
Joe Spivey - Sun, 12/14/2014 - 6:05am
Bodil turned to face the maze of stacked boxes. She let out a soft, low whistle.
“Easy for you to say, but… where?” She scanned the boxes, walking slowly around the room, almost praying that there would be a big label with ‘South Burb’ and a big arrow saying ‘This Way Up’. After five minutes there were no labels, no arrows. Not even a hand written ‘fragile’ scribbled under a layer of dust. As she went through the motions of searching, Bodil’s brain went to work on the task.
Joe Spivey - Fri, 12/05/2014 - 6:08am
Ellie quickly donned a pair of sunglasses and then swung her feet out of the fountain pool and squeezed out from behind the grey-clad mountain. Wet feet slopping on the sun soaked sidewalk, Ellie headed for the steps and the shade of the marble-columned portico.
“Come on.” She grinned as she passed the still staring professor. “Before my feet start to burn.”
Bodil’s last sight of Ellie’s bodyguard before turning to follow her was of her white pumps disappearing as the giant’s hand reached down and made a fist around them.
Joe Spivey - Sun, 11/30/2014 - 6:21am
If professor Hill had harboured any ideas of actually accompanying Alicia Troy on her private plane back to the family estate in what was the former Europe they were politely shattered when the strange meeting broke up after a few minutes and Derek pointedly walked her back to her car.
Joe Spivey - Sun, 11/23/2014 - 7:45am
This is surreal, professor Hill thought as she followed the broad back of the grey suited man. Two more suits walked closely, very closely, behind her. Her thoughts continued. This is a cliché. It’s like I’m in a damned movie. She stumbled and immediately two hands caught her and steadied her. Then they let go and the little party of four continued their brisk walk towards… She peered past the man leading the way. They were heading away from the party towards a large luxury vehicle set aside from the rest of the VIP cars and their drivers.
Joe Spivey - Sat, 11/15/2014 - 11:46am
“Dammit!” The expletive was much louder in her head than the sharp whisper that escaped her lips. Bodil stood, one elbow cupped in one hand with the wineglass held high in the other. She felt just the way she had on the rare occasions in her youth when she had been stood up. Her lips pursed and her glare darted from person to person, daring anyone one of them to make a comment. But the anger and indignation was just a cover for the small but growing chill in the pit of her stomach that was advising her to just let this whole statue thing drop.
Joe Spivey - Sat, 11/08/2014 - 8:51am
People milled around for a while, looking at the statue, talking with the aritst, talking with the Dean and being kept well away from the important people by large men in either black or grey suits who sported the latest fashion in electronic ear ‘jewelry’.
Joe Spivey - Sun, 11/02/2014 - 5:32am
Professor Ramsbottom-Hill meandered, glass in hand, through the gathered guests feeling very under dressed. She took a long draught of the rather nice wine, swilled it around her teeth for a moment and then swallowed. Well, what did they expect, she thought. Nobody takes evening dress on a dig. She ignored the occaisional glance her way from some expensively coutured madam. They'll just have to like it or lump it.
Joe Spivey - Sun, 10/26/2014 - 4:56am
Job done, Professor Ramsbottom-Hill made her way towards the garage dig, pulling off the heavy workgloves as she walked. Now free to think about things other than the repercussions of bodging the statue lift, Bodil found herself wondering about several things at once. They were going to need more security... The report to the university... The press function later today... Getting more experienced archeologists and fewer students...
Joe Spivey - Sat, 10/25/2014 - 9:17am
((Is anyone else like me? Do you do most of your deep thinking in the shower/bath? Well, what follows comes from that kind of automatic idle thinking and then added to during the few minutes after getting into bed before sleep takes you. I wasn't going to post it because it is just a silly and self-indulgent fantasy so you can blame Jake Grimes for me finally putting this idea, born in soapy wetness, into words. DISCLAIMER: FE Lore has definately taken a back seat.))
Joe Spivey - Tue, 08/12/2014 - 4:13am
Joe headed towards the pond. Kirsten would be a while he knew. She always was when she was buying pretty things. But even so he had to be quick. Turning a corner he dialed into the 986.76MHz. As soon as the voice at the other end responded Joe cut him off.
"Meet me at The Tap in five minutes. Don't be late, I don't have much time. Oh, and bring a bag of diapers. I'm supposed to be buying diapers."
Joe Spivey - Thu, 07/17/2014 - 3:36am
Joe Spivey - Tue, 06/17/2014 - 2:13pm
It really has. Three years, almost exactly... wow. During that time I've met some wonderfull people and made some good friends. Aaaaand that's about as maudlin as i'm going to get and I don't really need to say anymore because you've pretty much all has the same experiences. Thanks to everyone I've ever RP'd with for making the game as much fun as it has been.
Anyway, I thought I would try and round off the characters' histories a little like they do at the end of films like Animal House. So then...
Joe Spivey - Thu, 05/15/2014 - 1:21pm
"It's hard to get out of the barrel. It's slippery around the edges and people are happy to see you fall back in." Robert Downey, Jr.
The rain had almost stopped and now the streets gleamed in the moonlight and the piles of refuse and dead dogs had that just washed 'sheen' that would last only until the sun came up.
Joe Spivey - Thu, 04/03/2014 - 1:04pm
Tossing the thermos through the open driver's window, Joe continued on to the rear of the car. There, he dropped the tailgate and reached inside and reappeared clutching the wire handle of an old but 'looked after' hurricane lamp. Giving the fuel reservoir a few more pumps to get the pressure up, Joe lit the thing and lowered the tubular glass lens. He set off towards the house.
Joe Spivey - Wed, 03/26/2014 - 5:36am
"Two hours. Two bloody hours!"
Joe Spivey - Fri, 03/21/2014 - 12:36pm
He was going to need a spade.
Joe cursed under his breath. A flashlight yes but he hadn't reckoned on having to dig the trapdoor out from under half a ton of assorted rubble.
"Well," he said, looking out beyond the burnt down wall towards the old tree at the far side a small garden meadow. "That's just my bleedin luck ain't it now." He climbed and slid over the blackened remains until he at last jumped down onto the sun-parched grass and set off across the meadow towards the tree.