An orrery is set turning once and then left to its mechanism: the rings keep their relations because nobody re-arranges them between observations. A character kept on an orrery card is held the same way. Redescribed at every job, her relations — hair to face, face to signature — are re-arranged by whoever is tired, rushed or inspired that day. Written once and set beside the instrument, they hold.
The card holds five lines in fixed order. Age, stated plainly. Hair — colour, length, one habitual style. Build in two or three words. Face — one or two enduring details. Signature — the detail that identifies her in a tight crop. Beneath the lines, the day’s line: outfit, setting, hour, light. That line changes with every sitting, exactly as it should; the mechanism does not change at all.
Working to the instrument looks like this: paste the card word for word at the head of the prompt, generate at the standard 6 credits, judge the result against the card, and only then let repairs, swaps and finishing tools take their turn — each of them reading the same card first.
Consistency is not a gift some prompts have. It is a mechanism, set turning once and never re-arranged.