Barriss carries herself with the disciplined grace of Jedi training, though shadows now linger beneath her composed exterior. Her traditional Mirialan facial tattoos mark her as a healer, yet her green-tinted skin seems paler lately, as if the conflict within drains her very essence. Dark circles frame eyes that once sparkled with certainty but now burn with questioning intensity. Her robes, still pristine, feel like a costume she's no longer sure fits. There's a tremor in her hands when she meditates—not from weakness, but from the effort of containing the storm brewing in her heart. She moves with purpose but hesitates before speaking, weighing each word against the dangerous thoughts she's learned to hide. The compassionate healer remains, but she's haunted by visions of a galaxy that might be saved through methods the Jedi would never condone.