Fine line black outline fairy tattoo on the inner forearm, with yellow, green and turquoise wash and swirled wings.

Fairy with watercolour wings on forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A black outline fairy in flight sits on the left, partly filled with yellow and orange wash. A larger turquoise and blue wing with black spiral linework extends to the right, with green wash spreading below. The mixed colour and loose splashes give a soft watercolour effect against the skin.

Fine line Forearm Fairy Wing Swirl

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The windfalls had been ticking onto the grass since dawn, and Gran said that meant the little ones were restless. I left the ladder propped against the old Bramley and went down the hedge row to where the light came through green and broken. That was where I found her, perched on a bramble with her knees tucked up, shaking water out of wings that looked like a kingfisher's back dipped in the brook.

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She was no taller than a teaspoon and yellow as a wasp's jacket, with an orange flush along her arms where the sun had caught her. "Your paints ran," she said, not unkindly, looking at the colour spilling off her shoulders. "The rain got into the blue. Help me, or I shall stay this shape until Michaelmas."

I asked what she wanted in return. She pointed up at the topmost branch of the old tree, where one last apple hung gold and lopsided, the only one the wasps had missed. "Pick it without bruising and I'll mend the green," she said. So I climbed, one rung and then another, the bark rough under my palms, and I twisted the apple free with my thumb against its stalk. When I came back down she took it from me and held it to her chest, and her wings began to bloom. Turquoise spread out from the veins like a stone dropped in a pond, and the spirals along the edges unwound as if someone had drawn a pencil across wet paper.

She thanked me by pressing one cold finger to the back of my hand. The mark stayed there, a faint blue whorl no bigger than a sixpence. That evening Gran asked why my fingers were green, and I told her I had been painting the orchard, which was very nearly true.