Christopher Silverstone

Not a student of Shade Academy, but will appear in roleplays/narratives as a tourist.

## Basic Info

### Name/Nicknames/Aliases

Christopher Silverstone
(Christopher-Carrier of Christ) After the Famous bearer: St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers, is believed to have carried the Christ-child across a river (source: sheknows.com). Yes, I know Christopher is not a traditional color name. Yes, I know mayonnaise is not an instrument. Here is why I chose it anyway.
The river association is to inspire cool colors such as blue and silver; the traveler association matches his personality and desire to travel (also the main reason why I chose the name).

### Semblance

Illusion-ability to change/shapeshift into any being or object he chooses as a way to catch opponents off guard. When he shape-shifts into a sentient being, he always has a dark, ghost-like form and silvery eyes (e.g. dog because who would ever hurt a doggo?). When he shape-shifts into an inanimate object instead of a living creature, his semblance restricts the amount of time he can remain as that object, usually for a few minutes until he is automatically reverted back into his original human form (no he does not keep the eyes!). Think of it more as how a ghost would possess an object. His memories from being an object will still be intact. Shapeshifting in itself doesn’t hurt, mainly because of his aura making it a lot easier to transform. His aura makes it so that he just morphs and smoothly changes into something. After transformation, he will feel pain if he’s hit or injured as a sentient being. Clearly objects don’t feel pain, so he won’t feel a thing (if he’s a book for example and dropped onto the floor) until after he transforms back into a human. Basically, the pain is delayed if he’s an inanimate object.
Shapeshifting into an object would only last for five minutes at the most. For sentient beings, it can run as long as he has the energy for. If his aura is running low, he wouldn't last more than an hour shapeshifting. If his aura has completely run out, or if he is severely injured, he wouldn't be able to shape-shift at all until he has recovered.
His shapeshifting ability allows certain advantages, like turning into a bird to fly away, a snake to slip into narrow passages, or a toaster to toast some pop tarts.

### Skills

Maybe combat is no skill of his, but he wastes no time in setting his sights on what he wants, and he works to get it done. Christopher will continue to fight, not with his fists, but with sheer determination to reach places no ordinary human being ever could. Once working under his father’s careful watch at an airship-repair company, he has gained some technological/mechanical skills, though he had to work for a limited amount of hours because he was underage. He quit as soon as his father was jailed.

### Weaknesses

Christopher is often lost in his own mind and isn’t very lenient towards set rules. He often feels as though there is no more room in his heart for anyone other than his own family. This creates a barrier between himself and strangers and a great difficulty in forming long-lasting friendships.

## Appearance

### Outfit

Jeans that match the color of his own eyes and a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to free his trapped arms from Vacuo’s brutal heat. It’s clear that this city boy was in no way prepared for such a disastrous climate. He can also be seen wearing a gray hoodie whenever it’s cold.

## Personality

### Overview

He’s like a background character that seems to appear everywhere, yet no one seems to notice because all of the attention is on the heroes.

Any knowledge of Chris and his whereabouts seem to fade away in the minds of others unless conversation of his father is brought up. He doesn't mind it though, as he’d rather fade away than be the center of attention. After speaking with his father in prison, he decided to take some time away from home, where his brother was left in the care of his mother.

After several months without a father, he’s grown more self-reliant.
When it comes to difficult situations, he’d rather opt out and save himself.

He’s on no one’s side but his own.

### Quirks

-Favorite food: Pop Tarts (They exist in Remnant, right?)

-He gets visions of foreign lands and people, which he hastily records in his journal. His family regards it as an active imagination, however, he can’t help but feel a sense of longing for a time and place he has never lived in before. Any sound, sight, touch, taste, or smell triggers a memory he cannot even recall in his lifetime. These memories have led him to speculate life outside of Remnant, far beyond his reach. More people like himself are out there, maybe wondering the same thing. Is there life outside of Remnant? And has he lived them before?

-Because he goes about his days with the aching desire to see space, he is often seen stargazing or carrying a backpack full of books on the subject. His journal is littered with sketches of constellations and models of spaceships based on designs of aircrafts that he helped his father repair.

### Voice

Jonathan

Theme(s):

(<3)

Battle Theme:

## Backstory

My younger brother rubbed my fractured arm as it healed inside its cast. I broke my arm earlier that year for someone. I never thought, not in a million years, that I would ever fight for anyone but my brother, yet there I was, with the morning star shining above, so brilliant yet so deadly. With the blistering sand searing beneath my toes, I had no time to consider any options.

I just acted. I just never thought my first instinct would be to save another.

It all began in Vale, where my brother and I lived out our days behind a white picket fence.

My parents trusted that I take my brother to and from school, to which I obliged with great eagerness.

The sun would set, and the glorious city attractions would wash us away from daily responsibilities. We would live in blissful ignorance, eyeing market goods, savoring sweets, and playing games with the kids around the block. The nightly winds would pick up, carrying with it our laughter. Our parents were worried sick the first few times, most certainly our father, but they trusted me well and we continued our nocturnal walks. I would reflect on all those nights my brother and I walked home, always longing for the rushing winds, playing games, and seeing my brother in a happy place.

When my father was dragged out of the house one night, my brother kicking and screaming and begging his mother to release him, we forgot those nights in an instant. The winds had carried those too.

It was a long ride, but the taxi led me down to the airship. I pushed along anyway, not willing to wait another hour for the next flight. I clutched my ticket and readied myself for yet another journey through Remnant. Eyeing the pedestrians warily, I kept my head low as not to fall into conversation.

A sudden wave of sadness washed over me as the airship towered above my head, yet I wouldn't let my face betray me in tears or frowns. I remained unaffected. I passed a girl with striking indigo eyes, feeling her gaze penetrating my skull from behind. I didn't like the way she stared.

It has been a long time since someone has looked at me in that way.

Maybe she could see things in me that even I couldn't see.

Or maybe, as many in Vale know, that I’m just the son of a crippled man.

## Additional Notes

-He had originally wanted to take his brother to Vacuo with him, but his mother vehemently refused.