Two hands held together showing a red traditional rose on the back of one hand and a black and grey rose on the other, with small finger tattoos on the fingers.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rose tattoos on the backs of both hands

Traditional · Hand · Mixed · Photo

Two hands are pressed palm to palm, showing a large red and green traditional rose on the back of the left hand and a shaded black and grey rose on the back of the right hand. Small tattoos sit across the fingers, including letter-like marks, a crescent moon, a heart, a skull with a bow and a few simple symbols. The background is dark stone, and the decorated nails in pink and silver glitter add to the colour around the tattoos.

Traditional Botanical Hand Rose Hand Finger Moon Heart Skull Bow Letter Nail Flower

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The second frost had already blackened the glasshouse panes when Ysolde pressed the seed packet into her sister's hand and said the moon would collect its payment by morning. Dorrin laughed, because Dorrin always laughed at moons. The roses of Carrow Hythe had bloomed red for three hundred years, and nobody in the lower town believed the old bargain still held.

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They climbed the hill with a lantern and a bone-handled trowel. At the crest, where the walls of the lost palace stood open to the sky, they knelt in wet grass and dug. Ysolde's rose came first, a fat red bloom with a green stem curling round her knuckles like a ribbon tied for a feast. Dorrin's took longer. She wanted something that would not wilt at the first cold wind, so she chose a black rose shaded grey at the petals, the colour of a winter dusk over the moor.

The moon came down the slope on silver feet and asked which of them would keep the garden. Neither answered. They pressed their palms together, as they had when they were children and had sworn to share everything, and the moon saw two hands, two flowers and two bargains knotted into one. It drew the light out of the lantern and left a pale crescent on the smallest finger of each hand, thin as a fingernail paring.

In the morning the glasshouse was full of roses nobody had planted. Ysolde's were red as cherries and Dorrin's were grey as ash, and the sisters never again agreed on which of them had won. Some evenings, when the lamp is low, they still press their hands together over the seed trays, and the moon, if it is watching, must count the petals twice.