Colour realism tattoo of a wild-eyed hare in a purple jacket and white shirt, set against swirling teal and green, on a leg.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Wild-eyed hare in a purple jacket on a leg

Realism · Calf · Colour · Photo

A large hare with orange eyes, wearing a purple jacket and white shirt, fills the centre of the design. Its fur is rendered in soft, detailed strokes of grey, white and pink, with swirling teal, green and purple shapes behind it. The strong colour and smooth blending give the piece a painterly, realistic finish.

Realism Calf Hare Rabbit Jacket Swirl Eye Fur

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hare had been sitting on the ledger for an hour before I noticed it was reading the figures upside down, which in my experience is the only honest way to read them. We were in the east solar of Harrowgate Keep, or what the Crown had left of it after the siege, and the wind came through the window slots like a bailiff who had lost his paperwork. I had come up to count the tithe barrels. The hare had come up to count me.

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Its jacket was plum velvet, too big in the shoulders, and its shirt collar was starched to the edge of a blade. Its eyes were the orange of a lamp left burning in an empty house, and they never once settled. I asked it, the way one asks any clerk, what it wanted. It said the castle owed it a day. I said the castle owed everyone a day, the last steward had seen to that, and it laughed so hard a fleck of silver ink jumped off the page and landed on my thumb.

We argued through the afternoon. It knew the old debts by heart, every crooked tenant and every mill that had burned down twice, and by dusk I was beginning to suspect the keep had been raised on a bargain nobody had bothered to write down. Beyond the glass the moat had turned green and swirled with a light that was not the sunset. The hare hopped onto the sill, ears brushing the stones, and said that time in this place was a loan that always fell due in the wrong currency.

In the morning the ledger balanced to the penny. The tithe barrels were full of nothing but wind, my watch was gone from my waistcoat, and out in the green water a purple jacket was sinking, its buttons flashing like coins I would never be asked to pay.