Neo-traditional tattoo on a forearm of a faceted pink gem heart topped by a crown, framed by grey scrolling filigree and shading.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink gem heart with crown on a forearm

Neo-trad · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A faceted, pink gemstone in the shape of a heart sits beneath a small crown, set inside an ornate grey frame. Swirling scrollwork, filigree and soft cloud-like shading fill the space around it and run down the arm. The gem is rendered in glossy colour with strong highlights, while the surrounding ornament is in black and grey with tonal shading, and the composition is shot straight on at the forearm.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The crate has ridden in the forward hold since Lisbon, and you have counted its iron straps every watch because counting keeps a second mate from thinking about what sits inside. Pink glass, the purser swears, a Brazilian stone cut to look like a heart, though nobody aboard the Marigold Vane has seen it out of its packing. Captain Ashdown wants it on the quay at Falmouth with the paperwork still dry.

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Off Finisterre the sea turns on the ship like a dog shaking water off its coat. You go down with the lamp, boots sliding on the wet planks, and find the crate has shifted against the bulkhead and split one corner. Inside lies a small silver crown above a frame of scrolled metal, and the stone catches your lamp and throws pink across the bilge water like a lit window. Tobias the cook comes down behind you, grumbling that it is bad luck to open anything in weather, and goes quiet when he sees it.

You reseat the stone, lash the crate with fresh rope, and say you saw nothing but the packing grass. Tobias nods too readily. At dawn the captain asks whether the seals held, and you say they did, because a deckhand who lies about cargo finds himself put ashore at the next port with only his name to his back, and because the heart looked less like a thing being guarded than a thing keeping watch over the ship.

Falmouth comes up grey and ordinary out of the haze. You carry the crate down the gangway yourself, its weight settling into your arms, and you do not look back at the water where the light was.

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