Black fine line Deathly Hallows symbol with purple and turquoise watercolour accents, above the script words After all this time? and Always, on the forearm.

Deathly Hallows symbol with Always script on forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

The image shows a black line drawing of the Deathly Hallows symbol, a triangle with a circle and a vertical line, with soft purple and turquoise watercolour-style splashes behind its edges. Below it sits the printed phrase After all this time? in a serif, with Always in a flowing script beneath. The composition is centred on the skin, with the linework crisp and the colour washes softly blended.

Lettering Geometric Forearm Deathly hallows Triangle Circle Watercolour splash Script Quote Always Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had sealed the Hollin Pass by teatime, and the last coach had turned back at the bridge. I was wiping down the bar with a rag that smelt of vinegar when the traveller came in, a tall woman with a three-cornered mark drawn in soot on the back of her glove. She asked for a room with a view of the frozen mill race and paid in old coins that had been filed smooth.

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She did not sleep. I heard her pacing above the stairs until the church clock struck two, then the scrape of a chair pulled up to the hearth. In the morning she came down with three things on the table: a grey wool cloak folded to the size of a handkerchief, a pebble with a hole worn clean through it, and a length of blackthorn no longer than my hand. She asked me to keep them until someone came asking. I asked who. She said her brother, who had been dead eleven years, and smiled as though I had made a joke.

The snow stopped on the third day. Nobody came. I kept the cloak in the drawer under the ledger and the pebble on the windowsill where the light caught it, and the blackthorn I put behind the cellar door because it hummed whenever the wind turned east. Every winter since, a frost has come up the glass in the shape of a tilted triangle with a line through it, and I have stopped wiping it away.

Last January a boy came in out of the blizzard with the same mark on his glove. He asked for a room, then asked, very quietly, whether the pebble was still there. I took him up the stairs and showed him. He did not pick it up. He just stood with his palm flat against the cold pane, watching his breath bloom and fade, and said, "Good. Keep it safe for me a little longer."