Fine line arrow with feather on a forearm
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A single arrow runs diagonally down the inner forearm, with a triangular arrowhead near the wrist and a feather-like fletching with leaf-shaped details further down. The linework is thin, consistent and solid black, with no shading. The design is entirely black ink on skin, with a warm-toned photo and a plain background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Mind the nets, and sit down before you knock the tar over. Right. You've heard about Hannah Venn and the arrow? No? Then you've been drinking with the wrong crowd.
Keep reading
Hannah made arrows the way her father had, in the loft above the sail loft, with goose feathers she cut to a slant and bound with waxed thread. Nobody on this quay had drawn a bow since the war, but the lads still wanted fletching for their uncles' old longbows, and the coin was good. She pressed a sprig of sea samphire flat into every fletching, because her father said a feather without something green on it would never bring a man home.
Then came the February blow. The Mary Jane was three boats out past the Ledge with her mast gone and her crew hanging on in the scuppers, and the lifeboat couldn't get near her for the swell. Hannah stood on the end of the pier with a bow borrowed from the chandler's boy and a line tied to the shaft. Her first shot went short and the wind took it sideways. She didn't stop to curse. She said her father's name, loosed the second, and the arrow sailed over the wreck's rail and stuck in the foremast like a nail in a door.
They hauled the line across, and the crew came over one by one, hand over hand. The arrow hangs in the chandlery now, above the till, with the samphire still green on its feathers. Hannah never did say why it stayed green. Ask the chandler, and he'll tell you it's the only thing on this coast that never wilted, which is a lie, because I've seen his cabbages.
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