Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Holding hands at an outdoor wedding ceremony
Forearm · Mixed · Photo
A close crop shows a bride in a flowing white dress holding hands with a man in a grey shirt, dark waistcoat and black trousers, with the faces out of frame. The man's forearm and upper arm carry a densely worked tattoo with dark shading and some red accents near the hand, and the sleeve is partly visible below his rolled-up cuff. The background is soft green foliage and a gravel path in warm daylight.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dearest Sabine, the bells of Oriel Hall rang twice this morning, once for the ceremony and once because the sexton forgot the rope was wet. I write from the bench under the quince trees where the gravel runs down to the river gate, since the king's clerk has ruled that no ink may be spilled inside the chapel.
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You will want to know about the sleeve. Tomas had the river drawn on him in the winter of the flood, by old Brannoc who works the back alley off Sallow Street with a needle of bone. Every bend of the Ysolde runs from elbow to knuckle, shaded black with the lamp soot Brannoc grinds himself, and the little red marks at the wrist are the three weirs where the barges were lost. Tomas says it is a map so he can never lose himself. I told him that was a poor reason, and he kissed me for saying so.
When the Lord Warden asked for our hands, Tomas would not let go of mine even to take up the pen. The ink caught the light off the water and the whole garden seemed to lean in to read it. Duchess Alvère wept into her gloves. I think she was counting the weirs.
Here is the thing I have not told anyone. Last night I traced the red marks with my thumb and found one that is not a weir at all but a small bell, the bell of the drowned chapel at Tarn. Brannoc put it there himself, and when I asked why, he said a map should carry the place you were promised to. Come before the frost, and bring the brown ink. I want to see it drawn on you too.
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