Colour tattoo of a red rose under a gold-topped glass dome with a banner reading until the last petal falls, shown in daylight and under UV light, on an upper leg.

Enchanted rose under glass dome on thigh

Neo-trad · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A red rose on a green stem sits inside a gold-topped glass dome with a stained-glass pattern of blue panels, and loose pink petals lie at the base. A gold banner below the dome carries the lettering until the last petal falls, with bold black outlines throughout. The left panel shows the tattoo in daylight, and the right panel shows the same tattoo under UV light, where the blue panels and rose glow brightly against a dark background.

Neo-trad Thigh Rose Petal Banner Lettering Stem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody in Varra believed the rose would last the winter, but Mirela Tode had kept it under its bell of blue glass since the morning her husband went down the shaft, and not one petal had dropped. The glass had been cut from the lake ice by her grandmother, who said that anything grown under cold glass would keep its promise until the promise was kept. Mirela did not ask what the promise was. She dusted the dome every morning and talked to the rose as if it were a lodger.

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Her neighbour, Istvan, who mended nets and drank too much plum brandy, came by one evening with his cap in his hands. The mine had flooded at the lower gallery, he said, and the men were being counted. Mirela nodded and carried the bell down to the cellar, where it was dark enough to see the glass glow. The blue panels lit up like lake water under a moon, and the petals on the base shone pink and gold. She sat on the bottom step with an unlit lamp beside her and watched the rose until the lamp burned out of its own accord.

Some nights a petal fell. She counted them in chalk on the cellar wall, one line for each, and by the time the thaw came there were four marks left where there had been a hundred. Each time she came down, the rose looked a little less like a flower and a little more like a candle near the end.

On the morning the river broke its ice, the last petal lifted from the stem, turned once in the glass, and settled on the gold rim. Mirela carried the dome to the lake with both arms. She knelt on the frozen shore and set it on the water, where it floated, slowly turning. Up the road a man was walking with his boots in his hand, and she did not look up until she heard him laugh.