On the horizon of the Sith Temple lay an abandoned district, where the light of a single tower shone like a beacon in the dark. Inside, Arris Windrun recovered from the events that transpired on Corellia...
Her home was a mess of scaffolding and machinery. Vats hummed and clattered, producing and dispensing synthflesh. Sculpting droids had already stripped their cybernetic master down to metal and wire as they gathered the fleshy goop for shaping.
The cyborg's eyes drifted around the room. There were diagrams and sketches, and spools of blonde threads, all of which her appearance was derived. There were trophies of her past to break up the brutal atmosphere - vagabond's handgun, pieces of Vestra's lightsaber, and code cylinders from executed ISB leaders, broken cybernetics, among others. At the center of it all was a small shrine with a holophoto of two young women, one of the few relics from her past.
All the while, Arris kept opening and closing her right hand, as grim acceptance settled in her mind.
"Stop!" Her voice rippled through the Force.
All the machinery in the room came to an abrupt halt. The droids watched in silence, awaiting her next command.
Windrun settled back down in the operating chair, slouching to one side as she thought.
"We're going with a different plan."
It was time for a new look. Or, rather, an old one.
