[hider=Sterling VanCise][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/MjLFs5z.png[/img][/center]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/av2jM6v.png[/img][/center][indent][h3][color=#bb7c53][b]ℕ[/b]𝕒𝕞𝕖[/color][/h3][indent][indent][color=gray]Stijn "Sterling" VanCise[/color][/indent][/indent][h3][color=#bb7c53]𝔸𝕘𝕖[/color][/h3][indent][indent][color=gray]101[/color][/indent][/indent][h3][color=#bb7c53]𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣[/color][/h3][indent][indent][color=gray]Male[/color][/indent][/indent][h3][color=#bb7c53]𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕤[/color][/h3][indent][indent][color=gray]Witch[/color][/indent][/indent][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/av2jM6v.png[/img][/center][h3][color=#bb7c53]𝕄𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕔 𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤[/color][/h3][indent][indent][color=gray][color=#96a48f]𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓾𝓻𝓰𝔂[/color] - Back in the old country, they didn't call it such a delicate name. It was called "flesh stitching." And despite its name, that was exactly what it was. More precisely, Sterling has the ability to perform surgery with his bare hands. He mostly uses it to heal the wounded, graft flesh, or tend to organs, but it can be used as a weapon as well. Unfortunately, he has to be able to use his hands—his fingers more accurately—to wield the ability. Meaning that if someone has decided to come after Sterling, they've decided to come after his hands.
[color=#96a48f]𝓐𝓵𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓶𝔂[/color] - A more common art of magic, he was taught from a young age what herbs to mix with what to get what one wanted. Not interested in transmuting iron to gold, he uses it more to help facilitate his other healing abilities. Something to numb the pain, something to bring back appetite, something to stop the infection, and sometimes more cosmetic ones for the rough state that his chirurgy leaves the skin.
[color=#96a48f]𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓬𝔂[/color] - Sterling uses the cards that once belonged to his mother, an old Polish tarot deck. He's not good at divining any fate other than misfortune—which has been unfortunately useful in his life.
[/color][/indent][/indent][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/av2jM6v.png[/img][/center]
[h3][color=#bb7c53][b]ℙ[/b]𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪[/color][/h3][indent][indent][color=gray]The bags under his eyes aren't there just for decor, they're where he carries his sour mood. Sardonic and indifferent are the two words that could easily describe him. He's quick to dismiss and scoff at things that aren't any of his concern. When asked for his advice—why would do that, honestly—he'll spit the most obvious thing from his lips. It doesn't matter if it's insulting. It's the truth, laced with all the vinegar of borscht and just as pretty, too. It's not as if Sterling is beyond compassion, it's just piled underneath flake layers of dried molten that used to pour from a wellspring of his warmth. Now he only gives it to those that he views as worthy of his compassion. And "worthy" is an odd way to put it. It isn't quantitated based on personal wealth, status, or otherwise. There's a different equation there. One that many people have tried to figure out, only to be let down. [/color][/indent][/indent][h3][color=#bb7c53]𝔸𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖[/color][/h3][indent][indent][color=gray]He used to be a very attractive man. Sun-kissed blond hair, pale green eyes, and a svelte form that could have been on the front page of any magazine. But his power had its price, and that coupled with the stress of keeping himself financially afloat has taken its toll. 

Standing at 6'3", Sterling can fill the place of your door in the frame. If his skin has seen a lick of sun, you wouldn't be able to tell. Distilled green irises are vibrant against his almost gray sclera—a haunting change from its once leafy green set against a pale cloud. An aquiline nose slopes into full lips. He has a crooked smile but it hides a straight row of white teeth. His blond hair is a messy pile on top of his head. It's odd because he takes the time to get it shortened on the sides and layered on the top. Then he does nothing with it. He wears thick tortoiseshell glasses, though it's hard to say [I]why[/i] as his sight doesn't seem bad—and if it was, he's since corrected it. Maybe it's to bring a pop of color to his haunting eyes. A strong chin, once seemingly carved from marble, is soft around the edges. 

That leads down to broad shoulders, muscular arms covered in arcane tattoos, and down to large hands with agile digits. He's barrel-chested, and a threat to all his button-up shirts, with a gut where his once Adonis-like abs were adorned. He has long legs usually clad in some form of dress pants. Never assume you'll see him in jeans or—heaven forbid—shorts. He's always dressed like he's going to a funeral or the world's most macabre date. Sterling slouches more than he should, having grown accustomed to ramming his head into every cabinet door. He's unassuming until you get a closer look and see that he's a piece of art barely held together with a heaping of plaster and paint.[/color][/indent][/indent][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/av2jM6v.png[/img][/center][h3][color=#bb7c53][b]ℍ[/b]𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪[/color][/h3][indent][indent][color=gray]The son of a Polish witch and a Dutch gambler—not his true profession, but it's the one that had the most impact on Sterling's life. He spent most of his formative years in Poland, not able to travel to the Netherlands for some reason his father never fully explained. His mother was the matriarch of the house and everything within it was to her liking. She wasn't a cruel woman, but she didn't have any maternal instincts. Sterling may have taken to vodka at too young an age. What the young boy did remember was that his mother would sit him in front of a piano, with a needle and thread, or with bread dough. He'd have to practice small, minute movements for hours on end. Sometimes she'd disappear when someone would enter their home—passing the dried herbs that hung like chandeliers from the ceiling. Screaming would commence, but the person would leave thanking his mother for the torture that they endured. He didn't understand it until he was older. This was a good pain. And that his life would be filled with the bad kind.

They had to move to the US suddenly and without being able to take much beyond a few of his mother's books and his father's watches. Suddenly, Sterling had to acclimate to a new culture and language. He was also to keep quiet on the legality of them being there. His mother was devastated at the loss of occult knowledge and artifacts from their quick escape. It was something that she never forgave Sterling's father for, and no sooner had they arrived than they relocated—just him and his mother this time. She soon went about teaching him the ways of the "flesh stitchers." That along with the potion magic that she always seemed to be brewing. Her kitchen was a test of whether or not one could tell the difference between a pig-blood potion and a beet stew. Sterling was wrong more than he was right.

Though he was able to receive a proper education, anything higher than public schooling couldn't be achieved by legal status. Around that time WWII had started. They had been lucky to get out of Poland on a lark, instead of being dragged into the theater of war. Unfortunately, during that time he lost many friends and a few that he'd classify as more than that, but not in a public setting. He and his mother's little kitchen clinic drummed a lot of business up around that time. That was until his mom contracted tuberculosis and passed. Without legality on their side, and his mother having paid cash for everything, Sterling couldn't keep their house. He instead headed out, having to move in with his father at that time. 

The city was not quite what he expected it to be. His father was mostly absentee but had a cash flow that was scary in its amount and irregularity. So, Sterling used it to take a break from the macabre of his family's witchy practices. A few years later the war ended, and the soldiers came home. Around that time, Sterling's father failed to come home himself. A few more nights passed before his door was beaten down by a local gang that his father owed [i]a lot[/i] of money to. They were lenient on Sterling—as in they didn't kill him outright—and put him to work as a gopher. During one fateful night and one bad gig went wrong, Sterling saved a very rich man's daughter that they'd been extorting money from by using his magic. Of course, Sterling just made it look like he was quick with the first aid, but the daughter knew better. Realizing Sterling's "medical" aptitude would be useful, the criminal organization put him to use as their own personal physician, and realizing she owed him his life, Hester Montgomery made it a point to schedule him into hers regularly. That, of course, turned into a whirlwind romance. 

The fine minutiae of that time would be lost to faulty memories and too much alcohol. But there came a time when Sterling had worked off his father's debt and thought about proposing to Hester. Of course, like any good Romeo and Juliet love story, it had to end in tragedy. Fortunately, it was not the bloody kind. Instead, she became engaged to the eldest son of an equally wealthy family and Sterling never saw her again. Not knowing what to do, he did what he knew best—he became a back-alley doctor. There he was found out by the Rosenthal Coven and joined them with the understanding that his business was to use subterfuge to keep the witch hunters at bay.

Years would pass, Sterling would age—but not really. He'd use the mastery of his own power to retain some form of youth. He'd have a few more dalliances, but them along with his life experiences would begin to dwindle. That would be until he learned about one Valentine Montgomery-Hunter, the grandchild of his and Hester's secret love. Val had suddenly exhibited something close to magic, and she'd been given an address from her late great-grandmother's belongings. As if things couldn't be worse, he now had a teenager living with him.[/color][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/av2jM6v.png[/img][/center][/indent][/indent][/indent][/hider]