Twelve frames, one Vera. Not twelve similar women — the same woman, recognisable across a workbench, a doorway and a stool, in a robe, a slip and an evening dress. The series is the desk’s favourite proof that consistency is a discipline, not a model setting.
What never changed
Her description block — age, hair, face, the small inventory of her features — was pasted from the power sheet into every prompt, character for character. The room’s light recipe never moved either: amber, warm, from the same side. A muse lives in her constants.
What changed, one thing at a time
Each frame altered exactly one variable: pose, then outfit, then position in the room. When frame seven came back with a stranger’s cheekbones, the log showed the only change had been the outfit line — rephrased, not replaced, a word swapped in editing the prompt. The word went back. So did Vera.
The boring conclusion
Series work is clerical work. Freeze the wording, fix the light, change one thing, log everything. The romance of a consistent muse is entirely in the result; the method is a spreadsheet with good posture.