Fine black linework tattoo of a lace-style cameo framing a rose, covering the back of a hand and wrist, with a small coloured rose on one finger.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lace cameo with rose on the back of a hand

Botanical · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A dark lace-like pattern covers the back of the hand and wrist, with a scalloped border and a small lotus-style motif at the top. An oval cameo in the centre contains a rose with leaves, drawn in fine dark linework with some shading. A small coloured rose sits on one finger, and the rest of the image shows the hand against a patterned fabric background.

Botanical Hand Lace Rose Cameo Floral Lotus Filigree

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ada had been pricking the same pattern onto parchment since Michaelmas, and by the first week of December the pins on her pillow had grown into the shape of a cuff. Her mother had worked Honiton lace at the kitchen table for thirty years and never let a bobbin rest without a reason, so Ada tried not to let hers rest either, even when her eyes ached and the candle guttered down to a stub.

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The commission came from Mrs Pargeter at the big house, for a collar her daughter would wear at the wedding in March. It was to have a cameo at its heart, a little oval of ivory with a rose set inside, and that was the trouble. Every time Ada tried to draw the rose onto the cloth, the thread pulled and the petals came out fat and sulky, like a child's drawing of a flower.

On the longest night of the year, Tom came in from the lane with snow on his cap and said the frost had split the trough at the bottom field. Ada wrapped her shawl and went out with him, and in the lantern light she saw ice spread across the water in fern-like feathers, each one fine and dark and forking into the next. She stood there so long Tom asked if she had lost her wits. She had found her rose. Back in the kitchen she set the net loose around the oval and let the flower sit inside a window of mesh rather than on top of it, so the pattern held the rose the way the frost held the water.

In February, Mrs Pargeter's daughter turned to the glass, looked at the cameo for a long moment, and said her grandmother had worn a rose exactly like it. Ada did not tell her the rose had come from a frozen trough. She only tightened the last knot and said the lace would hold.