Close view of a woman's forearm and wrist with metallic gold and silver botanical and geometric tattoos, including a leaf vine band and a diamond pattern band.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Metallic leaf and geometric armband tattoos

Botanical · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A woman with long auburn hair wears a lace-patterned top and layered gold necklaces, with her arm raised towards the frame. Metallic gold and silver tattoo designs sit on her forearm, including a leafy vine band above a band of interlocking diamond shapes, and a leaf motif with geometric lines on her wrist and hand. The linework is clean and flat with no shading, set against a pale brick wall and a soft, neutral background.

Botanical Geometric Forearm Hand Leaves Vine Diamond Geometric pattern Metallic Armband Wrist Hair Necklace

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The vine came up the iron gate at Hollin Cross the winter the stationmaster's daughter stopped speaking, and by spring it had reached the footbridge rail and begun to thread itself through the diamond ironwork of the signal box steps. Her father, Amos Reddy, cut it back twice with his shears. Twice it came back thicker, with leaves no bigger than a thumbnail and edged so neatly they might have been drawn with a rule.

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Lydia would not come in for her dinner, but she would sit on the bottom step of the signal box and count the leaves. Eleven on the first branch, nine on the second, and one stubborn bud that never opened. When the trains came through she raised her left hand to the drivers and kept the other hand pressed flat on her knee. Amos asked her why. She said the vine had told her the count was important, and that nobody should touch the bud until it chose to open.

In May a thin man in a grey coat stepped off the Thursday train carrying a case of brass tools and asked for the key to the goods shed. He stopped at the gate and looked at the vine for a long time. Then he took a small tin from his coat, dabbed a single leaf onto the iron, and the metal shone as though a piece of the sun had been caught in it. Lydia stood up on the step, counted to eleven, and for the first time in a year she laughed out loud.

Amos never learnt what the man was paid to fix, or what he was paid in return. The vine kept its gold until the autumn, and on the first frost the porter found one small diamond of it still shining on the step, where Lydia had left it for the trains to see.