Neo-traditional colour tattoo of a faceted purple gemstone heart in a gold and brown ornate frame with pink beads, on an upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Faceted purple gem heart on upper arm

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A large faceted gemstone heart in shades of purple, lilac and white sits at the centre, framed by a gold and brown scrollwork border dotted with pink beads. A small ringed planet or orb and a smaller gold heart rise above it, with a second purple heart below and teal sparkles at the sides. The faceted gem uses smooth shading and highlights, while the outlines are bold and the composition is symmetrical.

Neo-trad Upper arm Heart Gem Gemstone Diamond Crystal Planet Sparkle Frame Jewel Scrollwork

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The stone had sat in the chapel wall of Aldermoor for three hundred years, my uncle said, because the soldiers who burned the place were too superstitious to touch it. He took me up the broken stair when I was nine. The wind came through the window slits cold enough to make my teeth ache, and there it was, low in the stonework, catching what little light came down through the missing roof.

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It was no bigger than my palm, cut in a heart with more facets than I could count, purple as a bruised plum where the light struck it side on and nearly white at the top where a crack of sun lay across it. Someone had set it in a frame of gilt iron, scrolled and studded with pink glass beads, and above it a copper orb ringed like Saturn had gone green with age. Uncle Tobias said the old lords believed the ringed ball was a world, and the heart was what they kept at its centre.

Years later I was a jeweller's apprentice in Leeds, bent over a bench of cheap paste and bigger ideas. I wrote to the family who still owned the ruin and offered a fair sum to let me take a mould of the setting. The reply came back in a careful hand. The stone had never been meant to leave, it said, and it had kept its shape by staying put. I thought it sentimental nonsense and tore the letter in half.

I went back alone the autumn I turned thirty-one. The chapel roof had finally given in, and the heart sat in a shallow pool of rainwater, glowing like something left out on purpose to be found. I did not touch it. I sat on the cold step and counted its facets until the light failed, then walked home with empty hands and the odd, settled feeling of having been trusted with a secret.