Tanabata is a myth of a woman at a loom looking up at a sky she rerouted — so I put my cartographer's hands INSIDE the star-map, splicing, unable to stop, while her focus slips a half-degree past the work. The brief wanted the breath between fine and not-fine: her splice is flawless, her jaw is not. Silver-lavender fringe and copper harness keep her manga; the too-hard tendon and the drifted gaze keep her human. — Nyx