Black and grey geometric forearm tattoo with a winged figure, nested triangles, a circle and crescent moons, placed on the inner forearm.

Geometric winged figure on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A central winged figure with lace-like patterned wings sits beneath a circle and interlocking triangles drawn in fine black lines. Crescent moons and small solid dots sit above and below the main design, with dotwork shading on the moons and figure. The design is in black ink on a pale forearm, centred vertically along the arm.

Geometric Dotwork Forearm Winged figure Crescent moon Triangle Circle Dot Lace pattern Geometric line

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit nearer, the lamp is failing and I will not shout the rest over the draught. You have heard the tale of the Ibis, the glider that flew between the three domes when the ice closed the roads, but you have not heard about the sums, and the sums are where the story keeps its teeth. Ysolde Varn kept the calendar wall at Ninth Ring Station. Every dawn she climbed the ladder and chalked the day on the grey plaster, the same way her mother had, and a dozen keepers before them, each one swearing the wall was true.

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The Ibis hung above that wall on two cables, its wings cut from lace-patterned sheet salvaged from the old orbital yards. Those wings were the only thing in the station that still caught the sun through the dust. Beneath them sat a circle and a nest of triangles drawn in fine black tape, and on either side two crescents, one fresh and one worn, marking the moons the old people had watched. Ysolde measured the dots against the crescents for nine years, and on the ninth she found the wall was a day behind the sky.

A single day does not sound like much, until you have a city that plants by the calendar and a harbour that opens only on a named morning. She did not tell the council. She took the Ibis up at dusk, flew the long slow arc over the dots, and let her lamp burn down while she counted the stars. When she landed she wiped out the old chalk and wrote the true day, and then, because she was tired and a little proud, she drew a tiny dot beside it, no bigger than a seed. Nobody has ever been able to say why it is there.