Two matching fine line script tattoos on the inner wrists reading 'our bond is everlasting', each ending in a small heart, one red and one blue.

Matching 'our bond is everlasting' wrist tattoos

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

Two forearms are shown with palms turned upwards, each wrist bearing the same phrase 'our bond is everlasting' in thin black cursive script. A small heart sits at the end of a fine trailing line beneath the lettering on each wrist, the left one red and the right one blue-grey. The lettering is crisp and evenly spaced against plain, softly lit skin with a neutral background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wind at the top of the Corran Pass has never once dropped below a shout, and by nine o'clock you have sold all but two of the balloons on the string. Your sister Mairi tied the last pair to your fingers before she set off down the far side with the mule and the salt, promising she would be back before the snow closed the road. The red one bobs at the end of its cord, the blue-grey one beside it, both knotted to the same loop of twine so they cannot drift apart.

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Mairi was always the one who walked ahead. At the Hanging Stone, where the path bends under a slab of rock shaped like a kneeling woman, she would stop and wait for you with her hands on her hips until you caught up, and then she would say what she said every time, that the mountain did not care who arrived first, only that everyone did. You thought that was nonsense then. You have come to think it was the kindest thing anyone ever told you.

By noon the cloud comes down over the col and the bells from the far village stop. You are packing the stall when a gust tears the red balloon free. It rises straight up, fast, a bright coin against grey, and you watch until it is gone. The blue one stays, tugging at your hand, as though it has decided to wait with you.

Mairi comes down through the cloud at dusk with the mule behind her and the salt sacks still roped. The red balloon is snagged on the wire fence by the bridge, two valleys away from where it started, and she has carried it all the way back, holding the string high like a prize. You untie the blue one from your own cord and knot the two strings together, and neither of you needs to say what the knot means.

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