A Distant Echo.

Full Name: Atlas Haldorian Finch Atlas SanteriAlias: Professor, The Guardian Angel of the Southern Front, ATTIS
Age: 42Height: 6 fulms && 5 ilms.Voice Claim: Michael Sheen (as Aziraphale)Race: ElezenSexuality: Bisexual | DemisexualRelationship: SingleResident City: IshgardLanguages: Eorzean, Ishgardian, ISL (Ishgardian Sign Language), Working on HinganOccupation: Former Scholasticate Lector & Researcher || Southern Front MedicaPersonality: Mild-Mannered and far more quiet these days. He's still as stubborn as he was during his scholasticate days, but now there's an edge of authority behind it. Passionate, bold, and near reckless - a far cry from the naïve Ishgardian he once was. He's still a giant nerd, he just hides it well / seems less like he still holds those passions.Likes: Art, Walks through Forests, Fresh Baked Goods, Any Food TM, Stargazing, Sight Seeing, Holding Hands, campfires at night, listening to stories, Reading when he has time, history & research, swimming in lakes -- quiet spaces.Dislikes: Loud Noises, Degrading Comments (that aren't safe, sane & consensual), Bland Foods, Great Heights, Open Water, The Heat.

Fun Facts about Atlas:

☆ Atlas has a pet squirrel he has taken to calling Icarus - she tends to hide in his ruck sack, hood etc.☆ He primarily doesn't eat meat - he's far more vegetarian in preference. But on occasion he will indulge - especially if it's to be polite at someone's dinner.☆ He was once a 'prodigy' when it came to the arts - he adores music, singing, and, of course, painting. It's been years since he indulged any of those hobbies and he misses them.☆ Atlas is left handed!☆ He had a personal collection of raunchy stories and books banned in Ishgard. Saved them from being tossed into a book fire. It had made him very adventurous back in his days - he has no idea where they might have ended up in his absence.

Echoes through Time

{ ATLAS FINCH - LECTOR || ARTIST }
wildwood - half-elezenBorn to upper-middle class in Ishgard, Atlas came from a long standing family of tradition. Knowledge, the pursuit of it, and all that of Academia was held above most everything else for his family. His father's lineage upheld high standards and expectations among the Scholasticate of Saint Endalim -- and little Atlas showed a proclivity for such pursuits early on. Nurtured and cared for as he was, the boy wanted for nothing and offered up everything in kind. He read extensively, wrote myriads of short works, and even found a knack for scoring music.He was a child prodigy and his family touted him for his accomplishments at every chance they could. Overlooking his minor quirks.You see -- along with his intelligence came the tendency to dream and cultivate and extensive imagination. Often he would speak of a place among the stars - cities swept up in a great light. Strange shadowy creatures. Giants who held the secrets to everything! Why, his imagination was so rampant that he began to draw out these scenes. What started as rudimentary scribblings became rather intricate sketches... and before long? They became paintings. Beautiful, haunting and abstract as they were -- and something he showed no one. If only for his family's image.But as he came into his role as lector at Saint Endalim, Atlas found his mind running rampant with these 'imaginings'. Painting after painting being produced and with nowhere to put them -- he began to sell them in secret. Bit by bit he sent his work out into the world as an artist known only as 'Constellato' -- and they were a smash hit. It became an aspect of him as much as teaching was. He led a double life and in truth? Loved it. It thrilled him to no end.But as time passed, the imaginings became... visceral. Debilitating. Many would lead to migraines and even, on several occasions, instances where he would black out. Minutes would pass by. Sometimes hours... But in that darkness he felt the eyes of hundreds on him and something pulling at his chest. Painfully.Little did he know that something rest deep within him. Something that was being called to and awakened. Something volatile and unstoppable -- that would take hold of him utterly and without hesitation.

{ ATTIS - A S C I A N || CREATOR }
midlander - ascianOceans of time have swept away what once was -- but even still traces, pieces, shards of it are tucked away in all corners of the stars. The world of the Ancients is one shrouded in twisted lies and half truths, but those who remain seek to breathe life into it once more. Reverse what was done and set to right what should be.Before its ruin, the ascian known as Attis lived among the beauty of Amaurot. He was a great thinker and lover of philosophical debates -- even comically so when his ideas would clash utterly and completely with others. Still, he was an amicable soul and strove to create life. His love of the world and nature of life itself led to many of his creations coming to fruition -- particularly fond of stars and the worlds beyond the night sky. And all the life they could hold.When those final days drew near, Attis found himself at a strange crossroads. Watching those he loved tear at one another over beliefs -- watching his world crack and fray at the edges was more than he could bare. But he would not go quietly into oblivion that so swiftly approached - he was far too stubborn a soul for it. He clung to life and offered every ounce of his being to the aether itself, fading as the skies turned red and fire came crashing down.In the dark he remained - silent. Asleep. His essence passed down through hundreds of iterations. Waiting for the echoes of his loved ones - waiting for their return. Waiting and succumbing further to his darkness and thoughts. His anguish. His anger.Then it came - like the softest breeze across his skin. A call. Voices. A dark pull at his very certain that awoke the piece of him - one that shone brighter with every passing day. Though it sat dormant for some time -- it would not for any longer. Its host would give in and let out the Ascian slumbering within.It would be awful. It would be cruel. But Attis would be free and with it? His destructive, new nature. Manipulation, endurance, and arrogance were what drove him - a need to rebuild just like those who found him. Tempered and near madness from it.Hear. Think. Feel.Remember us.

THE PATHS WE CHOOSE

{ THE WAYWARD LECTOR }
era: A Realm Reborn | Heavensward | StormbloodAtlas during this part of his timeline works extensively with Saint Endalim. From a glorified teacher's assistant to an eventual lector, the elezen makes a great push to become a leader among his colleagues. Fed up with the antiquated ideology and xenophobic mindset they peddle out to the students, Atlas is - among Ishgardians - rather radical in his beliefs of learning of the outside world. Teaching histories beyond their own.His students adore his rebellious streak as he teaches them music, histories, and even some of the languages outside of the Holy See. On many occasions, Atlas' syllabus has nearly lead to his termination and outright imprisonment. But between Atlas' own wit and the outraged cry of many well-to-do noble students, the man remained unscathed.Eventually this leads to Atlas even taking his students on a cross sea trip to the east, where they studied for an entire year in Kugane. Well, his students had. Atlas was terribly naughty and ventured out further into parts of Yanxia and even The Steppe.During this time, Atlas also began to sell his paintings under the artist psuedonym Constellato. As his dreams grew more frequent, so did his work and their demand for them. The money he gained from his efforts when towards funding his more radical plans within the Scholasticate. Allowed him to teach without the constraints of the Holy See.

{ASCIAN TAKEOVER}
era: Post Stormblood || ShadowbringersIt all started with a dream. A dream where Atlas stood before a man - a hyur. He looked so remarkably like Atlas himself and yet... it wasn't him. The man approached him, reached out to him... And then, with all the violence of a meteor, Atlas felt as if he were flung from his very being.Down into the darkest depths. Screaming into a nothingness where no one would hear him.When the elezen awoke that morning, he was not Atlas anymore. He was the ascian Attis -- finally awoken from his long dormant state. He was hungry for the world, for its experiences. For its utter downfall.Attis spared no expense nor held any sense of restraint as he went out into the world. He drank, he fucked, he killed. Years of yearning for the sensations of living again coalescing with the madness of tempering drove him. He was clever, he was underhanded, he was charismatic. A dangerous being that began to make work meeting with dignitaries. Dining with the rich, gaining their trust. Their companionship. Any ounce of power he siphoned and those who grew suspicious didn't last long once they found out.Plans were in motion and Attis began to claw his way into the minds of the most powerful. While his counterparts whispered into the ears of Garlemald, he began to sew his own thoughts and chaos among the dignitaries of Ul'dah, Ishgard and even beyond.As he wove his web of lies and began to fracture the powers who held the balance - Atlas, the man he once was, watched on from the dark. Watched as his body was piloted, forced to witness everything he once was fray and shred. He couldn't -- he wouldn't let this happen. He couldn't.Bit by bit, the elezen began to claw his way through the mire that was his shadowed prison. Screaming and crying for help. Begging for the strength to press on. And in the dark, he heard her - hear - he felt her hand unseen grasp his - feel -- and he felt his mind begin to wake.He would not go into the dark. He would not let this come to be. If he had to, he would die tearing this parasitic thing out of him once and for all.

{A NEW OUTLOOK}
era: Endwalker || Onward+The Ascian Takeover was brutal and left Atlas barely cognizant. For months he fought his way out of the dark fog -- following voices and a faint glimmer of light every chance he could. When it felt nearly as if hope were lost, he finally woke.It took him nearly three years to recover from the trauma of what unfolded. Nightmares plagued him. Trust could not be found in anyone. But, bit by bit, Atlas found himself again. But this time he was stronger for it. And he would not let this happen to him or anyone else so long as he drew breath.He left behind the hallowed halls of Saint Endalim -- its memories, its people, and even the part of him so drawn to art and the idea of being a mysterious artisan. He learned to fight and protect himself through arcane means and, during his travels back to Yanxia, by means of blades.Travelling onward, the elezen soon found himself befriending the likes of the Bozjan Resistance. Their fight was something he could help with. They were where he could start his path to redemption for the awful things that Attis had made him do. And so, to war, Atlas went.What he saw there and what he accomplished? It truly gave him back a sense of purpose.Even though he was weathered and worn from what transpired, there was still plenty of the awkward elezen left within him. The dreamer and lover of music, art, and books -- but alongside was a wiser man. A man with more confidence. A man with a newfound purpose.A man who would share the story of what he learned down in that endless dark. A man who would stop at nothing to ensure others did not fall as he had.

Roleplay Hooks

The Guardian Angel (Current Verse)Life has changed Atlas - some for the better, some for the worse. The Bozjan Southern Front had been a hellscape unlike anything he'd experienced. But the need to help and be better than the man he had been outweighed the fear. To do good and right the wrongs left in the wake of his Ascian possession.During his time in the Southern Front, he'd made lifelong friends and companions of the Resistance Fighters. Aiding them and healing their wounded, Atlas found bits and pieces of him stolen by Attis day by day. He even saw battle in places he could scarcely imagine, holding his own and protecting anyone he could. It was during the confrontation with the echo of Queen Gunnhildr that Atlas lost sight in his left eye. The wound left its mark, jagged scarring and burns spiderwebbing up the left side of his face from the magic she wielded.Now, after victory, he has returned home from the front. Though much of his naivety and cheerful attitude has left him - there are still glimmers of the old lector buried under the jagged shell that sits in place. The itch to protect is still there, the determination ever stronger. Be it through coin, pleads or a simple conversation over ale - Atlas will offer himself to aid any and all who need it.

The Lector of Saint EndalimHailing from Saint Endalim's in the holy city of Ishgard, Atlas is one of the leading Lectors on staff. With a passion for history, astronomy, and the arts, Atlas is one of the more 'hip and in-the-know' Lectors. When he's not teaching, he takes great care in the archives of the city's history -- but also regularly travels to the other major cities of Eorzea.Perhaps you've come across him as a former colleague. A neighbour. Or he was even a former teacher of yours. And, as he always does, Atlas Finch greets you with an open and warm smile.

The Man in the Mask (plotting preferred!)The fractured piece of the Ascian ATTIS calls to reawaken. Atlas has been overwhelmed and near overtaken by this ancient counterpart. He walks through the shadows and passes between worlds. But Atlas still remains tucked away in this entity - fighting to regain control. Fighting to find himself.Shrouding himself in a beastial mask, Attis now wanders through Eorzea unhindered. Taking in its sights, its peoples. Anything to aid the ever chaotic path forward for those forgotten. He's disarmingly charming, confident, and every bit as manipulative as one who has been tempered would be.Perhaps they crossed paths as companions. Friends. Or even sworn enemies. This variant of Atlas is not to be trifled with.

Information InquiryIf you should find yourself in need of anything at all -- you can always find Atlas in the depths of the information repository. He's always eager to offer assistance, speak of his findings, and engage in future discoveries.An aid to the Ul'dahn Archives which collect much of Eorzea's history, he's found often either buried deep in stacks of tomes -- or out enjoying the city and seeing its people.