Gran Canaria didn’t belie any of Elena’s expectations: it was just as cold as she had been told it would be. She was no daughter of New Berlin, and thus was not exactly receptive to the low degrees that felt as though they were pricking right through the thick down anorak she had chosen to wear. It was the first time she was on this planet, and already now would she have loved to turn around on her heel and fly the hell away again. The mere thought of why she had to be here aggrieved her, and, coupled with the bitingly cold winds every now and then, made her shiver and shudder. She wished the circumstances to be different as she walked down the few lanes to grab a taxi that would bring her to the estate. But sadly, matter of factly, it was like her hands were tied behind her back and she could not do anything about it. There had been no real freedom of choice – either she would submit to this here, or she would molder away without ever breaking the vicious circle she happened to be entrapped in. Even though she hoped and was ultimately sure that this meeting would help her in some way, she still felt a deep revulsion that bordered on unrest or even anxiety. Turning the question over in her mind whether she was ready to open up or not, she hailed a taxi with grim expression and climbed in and made it herself as comfortable as possible. The answer was simple: she would just have to.
John Henry Holliday, she said to herself. A man she knew only little about, and one she was about to meet for the first time. Still, she already thought to know him to some extent. The tails about him were spread wide all over the Neural Net, and he seemed to have a reputation that only preceded him. She liked to tell herself that she would be well looked after with him as consultant, yet she was not all so sure about it. Not to mention she preferred to be in her own hands usually. Her hands, cold and ashen-pale and trembling, didn’t make for good ones, though. Then add to it the subtle suggestion of a friend of hers to call a specialist in, and here she was – albeit reluctantly.
As she looked out of the window of the taxi, she began to study the landscapes of Gran Canaria thoroughly. Here, in a heated cab, she could actually find the view pleasant. It was a nice looking scenery, she had to admit, with some strewn around, beautiful forests. A real pity they were all so damn frosty.
When the driver made knock-knock and demanded the money, Elena started from her snoozing she had gotten into, buried in various thoughts. Wordlessly she thrusted it into his hand and stepped out stiffly, in order to blanket some of the flutter she had inside. Slowly taking step after step towards the estate she had been brought to, she breathed in heavily again and again and watched the wafts of mist leaving her mouth. Quickly she fixed her eyes on the large building in front of her that seemed to dominate the estate she would probably have to stay on for the time being. It appeared luxurious to her, nothing less than aristocratic. Maybe she would get to like it. The last thing she needed right now was a snob who would spit out only weird literature quotes. Nonetheless, she decided to force the optimism onto her as well as she could. Maybe it would be worth while, who was she to know already?
With a more or less amenable and cleaned and sorted mind, Elena strode towards the entrance. With her chin tucked in and a large, furred hood over her head that would only show sparse strands of her blue-dyed hair, she looked around herself to soak in the whole of her surroundings, and watched out for any host that might appear.
