[center][color=9e0b0f][h3]Dana Harada[/h3][/color] [img]http://i.imgur.com/5HXckpz.jpg[/img] [b][u]Location:[/u][/b] Driving to Olympus Academy [b][u]Interacting With:[/u][/b] The [s]wrong[/s] correct side of the road[/center] [color=9e0b0f][i][right]Do the D.A.N.C.E., 1 2 3 4 5 Stick to the B.E.A.T., get ready to ignite You are such a P.Y.T, catching all the light Just easy as A.B.C., that's how we make it right[/right][/i][/color] Dana would be glad to be in the safety of a school, with one parking lot and no other pesky drivers to inhibit her driving experience. Growing up in metropolitan Kobe, of course there was the blaring of car horns to be expected. But America...in America, it was not just the vehicles that honked, their drivers joined the cacophony! Their curses! Their [i]foreign curses![/i] She had a feeling that even if she grew to understand and utilize the basics one day, road rage technology in this place would continue to innovate along with the vehicles that caused it. Not that the open road couldn't be soothing when there was no one traversing it. As the trip from the airport in Salt Lake City to Olympus trudged on, Dana found herself needing to correct onto the right side of the road (something else she'd never understand; even the act of trying to pass someone on the left side of the road made her chest constrict) less and less while the roads grew more and more remote. There was a peace about the drive after a while, and once she'd managed to adjust her seat and turned on her DDR soundtracks, she found long stretches of tranquility broken by a few near mishaps. Even those, the daughter of Ares had learned to take in stride - [color=9e0b0f][i]"kamiiiiii-kazeeeeee"[/i][/color] out a car window had the best effect in this country - until she achieved a quiet, almost meditative drive. Meditation that found itself broken time and again with her dance mix. [color=9e0b0f][i][right]Do the D.A.N.C.E., 1 2 3 4 5 Stick to the B.E.A.T., get ready to ignite You are such a P.Y.T, catching all the light Just easy as A.B.C., that's how we make it right[/right][/i][/color] Dana Harada started to hum to herself, one hand confidently gripping 1 o'clock on the wheel while her other had occasionally counted off [color=9e0b0f]'1-2-3-4-5'[/color] out the window. This was nice. About one Justice, three Vocaloids, and half a Duran Duran later, Dana had parked her car between a Mazda Miata and a battered truck that sported not one, not two, not even three, but four car radios, one arranged at each corner of the vehicle's bed...as if lying in wait. [color=9e0b0f][i]That's...odd.[/i][/color] They were so old, too...they had to serve some form of purpose for the car's owner. Dana had a feeling it would be beyond her, though. Looking down, she smoothed out the light grey blouse she'd worn into the car until it stretched slightly lower down her pair of leggings. She normally wouldn't bother looking like she had just crawled out of casual Friday, but dressing up in a car could have easily been a recipe for discomfort, so she had decided to spend her first day in a slightly more utilitarian fashion. And speaking of utilitarian...this [i]landscape![/i] The campus was so clean, a small network of sidewalks cut off from each other like strands in a cobweb by the occasional bench and vast expanses of cleanly cut grass, so fresh that she could almost smell it through the car. There was officially [i]nothing[/i] that could restrict her [color=9e0b0f][b][i]mewvement[/i][/b]![/color] Instantly, she resolved to tell her father at the earliest convenience that this was a good idea after all. Dana stepped out of the BMW and closed the door softly behind her. She would need to inquire about the living situation before dark, so she had time to set up her Guitar Hero paraphernalia, her dance pad, perhaps inquire about the basic standard of furniture... And where people trained. And where people [i]ate.[/i] Underneath her slim blouse, a familiar, husky growl rang in her ears. Perhaps she would tackle her questions in reverse order, then.