Black ink tattoo on a forearm showing a geometric icosahedron outline with a dotwork moon shaded inside it.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Icosahedron and moon on a forearm

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A wireframe icosahedron in fine black linework sits over a large dotwork moon, with the craters and surface shaded in stippled dots. The outline has solid lines for the main edges and dotted lines for some of the hidden edges, giving a sense of depth. The design is centred on a pale forearm against a dark background, and it is shown in black ink and grey tones only.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The dice-keeper of Hallowmere will not let you touch the twenty-sided stone until the bell has finished ringing. You stand at the edge of the moot-ground with your palms wet, watching the old woman turn it over in her fingers, tracing the sharp edges where the faces meet like a seam on a ship's hull. Someone has scratched a pale dot into each face, and the moon hangs above the wall, fat and grey, its seas and craters so familiar you could draw them in the dust.

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"Twenty faces," she says, "and each one a way the year might go." She sets the die down on the flat of the well-stone and lets it roll. It wobbles, catches the lantern light, and settles. You lean in. The face up is the one with the smallest dot, the one nearest the crater of the old moon, and the crowd makes the sound a crowd makes when it has already decided what it thinks.

You expected the die to tell you that the river would rise, or the harvest fail, or that the Duke's men would come over the border before the thaw. Instead the keeper smiles and turns the stone so you can see the frame behind its faces, the thin lines that cage the moon inside it. "The shape is the bargain," she says. "Whatever lies inside, the edges are still ours to count."

Then she hands you the die, still warm, and walks back toward the bell without looking at the moon again.

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