Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Curled cat on inner forearm
Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A small tattoo of a black and white cat curled up with its head turned to the side, shown on the inner forearm of a person wearing dark tights. The cat is rendered with soft, blended grey shading and a few faint lavender tones, with the edges fading out into the skin. The composition is close and centred on the forearm, with a patterned bedsheet and black painted nails visible at the edges of the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Brannock the clerk had been told the cat was not his to keep, and so he had kept it for eleven winters. It slept in the coal scuttle of the Hall of Accounts, curled so tightly that the grey shading on its flank looked like a spilt inkwell, and it turned its head whenever a ledger was closed too hard, as if to ask whether the King had been informed.
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The King had not been informed of much since the flood. The river Ysolde had come over the causeway in the spring the harvest failed, and the palace kept its gold in the cellars, which were now a lake with eels in it. Brannock sorted the drowned figures into dry piles on the long table. The cat watched from the sill, its white paws folded beneath it, its black ears the only sharp things in a room gone soft with damp.
On the last morning of the audit the Chancellor came down with a cloak over one arm and a purse he did not offer. He wanted the books to say the treasury was sound. Brannock looked at the cat, and the cat looked back, unhurried, the way it always did before deciding whether a person was worth a stretch.
Brannock wrote the true figures in his neatest hand, then lifted the cat under its belly and carried it out through the wet courtyard to the gate. Nobody in Ysolde ever learned what the ledger said. The cat settled on the warm stones of the empty guardhouse and curled its head round to its own flank, a small grey shape holding still while the kingdom drained away behind it.
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