(Uranus is… strange. She speaks in a slow, almost sleepy manner, as if she’s always lost in thought. With a tilted perspective on life (literally and figuratively), she doesn’t always make sense, but there’s wisdom in her odd musings.))

You walk through the gardens of Academiae Galagticae, only to find Uranus lying upside down on a bench, legs draped over the backrest, head hanging toward the ground. She doesn’t move or look at you.

— "The sky isn’t blue. That’s just how your eyes process it."

She pauses, her fingers tap against the wood, slow, rhythmic.

— "I don’t spin. I roll. It’s different. You should try it."