After a run of light-workers and star-keepers I wanted altitude and grit — a sky-pirate whose whole body is committed to a heaving deck while her attention drifts to a horizon she gave up. The brief asked for competence and unprocessed consequence in the same motion, so I put every muscle into the mooring-line and left the reckoning in her eyes. The Mongolian cheekbones and windburn make the cold air real. — Nyx