Colourful neo-traditional hot air balloon tattoo with pink, teal and yellow panels, small birds and a pink cloud, on the outer thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hot air balloon on a thigh

Neo-trad · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A hot air balloon with a pink lattice envelope, teal and yellow banding, a small teal pennant and a woven basket hangs against a soft pink cloud. Two small birds sit in the sky on either side, and thin black rigging lines join the envelope to the basket. Bold black outlines and mostly solid colour fills sit alongside light grey shading, and the design is centred on the upper leg.

Neo-trad Traditional Thigh Hot air balloon Balloon Flag Bird Cloud Basket Rigging

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wind off the Garrow Gap had already taken your hat twice before the balloon was fully inflated, so you tied the scarf under your chin and told Mirelle to stop laughing and hold the rigging. Her laughter came back anyway, bright as the teal pennant snapping above the envelope. Behind you the pink lattice of the silk swelled and creaked, and the two grey crows that had followed you up from the valley settled on the lip of the basket as if they had paid for seats.

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Nobody in Thornbeck believed the pass could be crossed by air. The rock walls were too close, the thermals too cruel, and the old carrier pigeons had given up on it a century ago. You had a map sewn into your waistcoat lining, drawn by a dead postmaster who had marked every updraught with a little yellow wave. Mirelle read the waves aloud as you rose, and the teal and gold banding flared like a cuff as you cleared the first ridge.

Halfway over, the burner sputtered and the basket dropped sickeningly towards a shelf of snow. You did not reach for the valve. You reached for the cord of the pennant instead and pulled, because the postmaster's note said the wind on the far side turned with the flag. It did. The balloon lifted, swung, and carried you over the saddle in a long slow arc.

When the valley opened below, green and shining with the river, Mirelle pressed a folded letter into your palm. It was addressed to a sister who had never once looked up. You tucked it into your coat, watched the birds peel away towards the sea, and let the pink cloud carry you onward.