Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Snarling lion tattoo on the back of a hand
Realism · Hand · Black and grey · Photo
A realistic lion with bared teeth and a furrowed brow fills the back of the hand, with its mane shaded in soft greys. A string of beads and a cross hang down the left side, and a crescent shape sits above the lion at the top of the frame. The image is almost entirely black and grey ink, with pinkish skin tones showing through the highlights.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The lion would not eat the meat Haldis brought him, not the veal nor the sweet bread soaked in wine, and by the third night the keeper of beasts at Ravenna had begun to suspect the animal was waiting for someone else.
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Haldis knew the cord he wore. Father Teodoric had pressed it into his palm on the day the Gothic guards dragged him from the fish market, a string of dark beads with a small bronze cross swinging from the end, and told him to count them when the fear came. Haldis counted them now, kneeling in the straw outside the iron grille, while the beast's breath rolled across the flagstones like a slow tide. Its brow was furrowed, its eyes fixed on the hooded moon above the arena wall, as if it had lost an argument with the sky.
On the fourth night the lion stood. Haldis watched it climb the stone steps, paw by paw, toward the crescent of light falling through the grate, and then it turned and looked at him as though he were the one who ought to be locked away. He thought of the sand, the crowds, the imperial clerk who had counted coins into his palm for a beast that would not perform. He thought of his mother's hands wrapping beads in linen.
He lifted the bar. The lion walked past him without a sound, down the narrow street toward the salt marshes, and Haldis stayed on his knees counting. By dawn the cord was empty, and the cross lay in the straw where the beast had been, catching the first grey light like a coin nobody had come to collect.
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