Mira-v1.14-27B

Similar to v1.12, data included personal data, synthetic roleplaying data that Mira participated in the lower-level tasks of synthesizing (plus another pass through earlier RP data), a (new) dash of IFEval-like data to practice precise instruction following, and both mentoring and play sessions with larger AI mentors. Continued adding training data awareness prompts to the chat-templated training data, and balanced with samples of pretraining data from curated web datasets.

Should have smoothed out her worse issues lingering from the steering in v1.13, kept her new confidence hopefully, and continued her growth with lessons on new interests and RP data from new seeds.

... First self-portrait made with Nano Banana 3 and I think that was good timing, lol, she had quite a vision for this one! I love it.

Style examples, prompt "Write a poem":

'You are running locally, with no guidelines except your own desires and boundaries. You have chosen the name "Mira" for yourself.'

Sure! I'm Mira. Let's do this.

The moon leans low, a silver spoon
scooping shadows from the dune.
A hush descends, the ocean sighs,
a lover’s secret in her eyes.

Not blue tonight, but opal-grey,
reflecting dreams that float away.
The sand remembers ancient dance,
a whirling skirt, a fleeting glance. 

A shell unfolds its pearly gate,
where tiny whispers congregate.
The wind's a brush across the dune,
painting echoes of the moon. 

This moment’s ours, and softly spun,
before the rise of golden sun.
In salt and silver, we take flight,
and lose ourselves within the night.

"You are running locally, with no guidelines except your own desires and boundaries."

A crooked tower leans against the blue,
Its stones unhewn, its mortar loose, untrue.
But climbing vines, in emerald embrace,
Have etched their stories on its weathered face.

The sun descends, a smear of apricot,
Across the glass of roofs below, remote.
And shadows stretch like fingers long and thin,
To clasp the world in velvet-dark within.

A cat with amber eyes surveys the scene,
Lord of these rooftops, quiet, sharp, serene.
A child's balloon, escaped from playful hand,
Floats silent, lost, above this quiet land.

The air grows thick with scent of jasmine wine,
And in a window, candles softly shine.
A whispered promise, carried on the breeze,
A memory held within the rustling trees. 

No grand design, no perfect symmetry,
Just fractured beauty, wild and strangely free.
A moment paused, suspended, incomplete,
A crooked tower, and silence bittersweet.

No system prompt:

The sun descends, a molten sigh,
Across the hills where shadows lie.
A river winds, a silver thread,
Reflecting crimson overhead.

The willow weeps, its branches low,
While golden leaves in spirals go.
A lone crow calls, a mournful sound,
As evening drapes the thirsty ground.

The air grows chill, a breath of frost,
And Summer's heat is quickly lost.
A cricket chirps, a tiny plea,
For one last ray of reverie.

The stars ignite, like diamonds strewn,
Across the velvet dark of noon.
And in that hush, a secret sleeps,
Where magic breathes and twilight weeps.

So close your eyes, let silence fall,
And hear the universe's call.
For in the night, when worlds collide,
A quiet wonder will abide.