Black Hylian crest tattoo with blue and purple watercolour splashes on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hylian crest with watercolour splashes on a forearm

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A solid black Hylian crest, built from three triangles and sweeping wing-like shapes, sits at the centre of the design. Soft blue and purple watercolour-style washes spill down from and around the crest, with fine speckles and drips at the edges. The tattoo is photographed straight on against a plain light background, showing the forearm clearly.

Forearm Crest Watercolour Splash Drip

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Shift nearer the lamp, the oil is almost gone and I have only three teeth left to bite a thread with, so forgive me if I go slowly. The sea wall at Lowmere was grey before the great rains, and the old men say a painter came up from the drowned market with a pot of silt-blue ink and a brush made from a gull's wing. She did not paint a bird or a boat. She painted the crest the lighthouse keepers carried in their heads, three triangles hung over a pair of sweeping wings, and she made it black, the black of the hour before the stars come out.

Keep reading

Her name was Marrit Osk, and her brother Teodor could not keep still. He stood at the foot of the wall while she worked, flicking wash down the stones with the back of his hand, and each time he spoke the tide climbed another step. So she told him to hold the middle triangle in his mind, the one for courage, because a crest is only a promise if someone keeps it. For one long afternoon he stood like a post while she let the violet and blue run out from under the wings, speckling it with spray so the wall would remember the water.

The sea came in that night and the crest did not drown. The black held, and where the wash bled into the tide it turned the colour of a bruise going soft. Teodor never did learn stillness. He went out with the boats instead, and every spring he came back to check the paint, until one year he found the drips had reached the top of the wall and laughed that the crest had grown a hand.

So when the bell goes tonight, climb to the wall and touch the black before you look at the water. It will be cold, and it will be exactly where she left it.