Fine line black script word inside an outlined heart with an arrow, tattooed on an ankle, with a matching tattoo on a second ankle beside it.

Matching heart and arrow script ankle tattoos

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

Two people's ankles are shown side by side, each with a matching small tattoo of a script word set inside an outlined heart with an arrow passing through. The linework is thin and black, with no shading, and the design sits low on the ankle bone. The warm tones of the red leather sandals and dark shoe contrast with the grey pavement, and the photo is taken at a slight angle.

Fine line Ankle Heart Arrow Script Lettering Matching tattoo Feet

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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

Sit closer, you lot, the lamp has oil for one more tale. Did I ever tell you about the Harrow sisters? Not the pair who sold the water rights at Dunmore, but the other two, who walked the tide road from Sallow Bay to the glass towers with a cart of seed stock and hardly a word between them.

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They had matching marks on their ankles, as sisters do, though nobody living remembers why. A small heart, a word written inside it in that spidery old hand, and an arrow slid straight through the middle, as if someone had pinned their love to the bone. The younger, Ondine, reckoned the arrow meant they would never be parted. Her elder, Marit, said it meant the opposite: every road has a point, and you can only stand at one end of it.

The causeway gave out one spring, where the salt had eaten the stone down to a line of rusted posts. Ondine went first, stepping post to post with the cart rope clenched in her teeth. Marit stayed on the last firm stone, counting the gaps aloud. Left, long, now. When the seed sacks finally tipped into the mud, Marit was the one who went over the side to fetch them. Ondine turned back and found her sister's arm locked round a post, mud to the chin, laughing like a fool.

So the cart reached the towers with one sister pushing and the other pulling. When the clerk asked for the names of the couriers, Ondine wrote both, and then, because her hand wanted to, drew a little heart beside her own with an arrow through it. That's the page they still keep in the toll-house. Hand me that cup, would you? My throat's as dry as the causeway.