Gold metallic floral design with swirls and a dotted line running along the fingers, on the back of a hand.

Gold floral temporary tattoo on the back of a hand

Botanical · Hand · Colour · Photo

A close photograph of a woman's hand resting on a white textured fabric, with her head turned away and out of frame. A gold metallic floral motif with swirling curls and small dots sits on the back of the hand, and a line of gold dots runs down the side of the fingers. The gold ink is shown against warm skin tones, with rings and a cuff bracelet in the frame.

Botanical Hand Flower Floral motif Swirl Dot Mandala Hand Ring

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The gold ran out before the lotus did, so I finished its last petal with a sliver of tin and a breath of my own spit, which my master said was no way for a painter of the royal seal to work. But the chamberlain had ordered a flower for a hand, not a hand's worth of perfection, and he had paid in Kessamar silver before I had lifted the brush.

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In Kessamar the river Oth carried gold dust down from the northern hills, and we painters bought it by the thimble, mixed it with acacia gum and laid it on skin in the mornings before the heat came up off the water. The ferrymen had their dots painted down the fingers so they could count their fares in the dark without lighting a lamp. Each dot was a coin they had already earned, and they touched them the way other men touch prayer beads.

The chamberlain came back at dusk, turned the hand toward the window and frowned at the petal with the tin in it. I told him the gold had been short. He laughed, and said the king's mines had been sold to a company from across the sea, and that every painter in the city was now working with gold that had been watered down by the ferrymen's own greed. Then he took my brush, dipped it in the last of the pot and drew one more curl beside the flaw, so that the crooked petal looked like it had been meant.

The gold lasts three weeks on a good hand. I watched the ferries from my window the whole of that month, and each time a boat crossed under the bridge I could make out the glint on a fingertip, a small bright dot moving through the fog until the skin let it go, and the river took the rest.