Two palms-up wrists with matching fine-line black script tattoos, one reading I believe in you and the other reading I believe in you, too.

Matching script quote tattoos on the wrists

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two palms-up wrists show matching lines of black handwriting-style script, one reading I believe in you and the other I believe in you, too. The linework is thin and even, with the lettering set in a slightly slanted, hand-drawn style running across the inside of each wrist. The photo is taken in warm light on a grey surface, with the two tattoos and hands centred in the frame.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Text Quote Handwriting Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, the lot of you, and mind the dog, for he has heard this one and wants to leave. Eight winters back, in the river kingdom of Hallowmere, where the harbour froze so hard the gulls walked to market, a rope-maker's daughter named Oda Venn sat on the quay steps with her brother's last letter folded in her apron. The ship Brannock sailed north to the salt towns on the next tide, and Tobin had written that he could not come home for the thaw. He asked her not to wait up.

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Oda did not wait up. She went to the rope-works instead and begged a cupful of lamp soot from old Mother Crane, who mixed it with river salt the way the ink-wives always had, because salt holds on to what it touches. Tobin came down the gangway at dusk with his sea-bag on his shoulder. Before the ship cast off, he took her wrist in his cold fingers and wrote on the soft skin there with a stub of charcoal. She wrote back on his, pressing so hard her thumb ached.

Eight winters on, the Brannock came home with tar on her hull and three men fewer than she had sailed with, and Tobin among the living. He walked up from the quay with his sleeve rolled high, and the first thing he did was hold his wrist out to the lamp. The salt had gone into his skin and the soot had stayed, through all that weather. Oda held out hers beside it. Two dark lines sat side by side in the light, one slanting a little more than the other.

He read his aloud first, slowly, the way a man reads a tide table. Then he read hers, and she told him that was the only true thing either of them had ever written, and across the harbour the bell rang the hour.