Black and grey realism tattoo of a rampant winged lion with a flowing mane, covering the shoulder and upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Winged lion on shoulder and upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A rampant winged lion is shown in profile, with its forepaw raised and clawed hind feet planted, covering the shoulder and upper arm. The lion's mane and feathered wings are rendered with soft grey shading and fine hatched detail, giving a sculpted, three-dimensional look. The tattoo is entirely in black and grey ink and sits against a plain pale background, filling most of the frame.

Realism Upper arm Shoulder Lion Wing Mane Claw Scrollwork

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell, the figurehead is finished, though Captain Ferrier says it looks more like a dog that has swallowed a hymn book than a lion. He is wrong, and I told him so, which is why I am writing from the bow locker with my knuckles raw from the gouge. The wings took longest. I cut every feather from seasoned pear and let the grain run the way the wind runs over Biscay, so the whole beast seems lifted off the bowsprit before it has even left the yard.

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The mane gave me trouble. Ferrier wanted it combed flat like a barber's sign, but I carved it blown back in long curls with little scrolls at the ends, the sort of swirl you see on the old Venetian lions in the cathedral square. Mr Oddie, the bosun, says a lion with its paw up looks like it is hailing a cab. I say it looks like it is about to climb over the rail and take the first wave personally. We argued over that for a week, and I won.

Then off Cape Verde a squall snapped the raised forepaw clean at the wrist. I was sure Ferrier would have it chopped for firewood, but the watch got wind of it and the whole crew came up to the bow to see the damage. Nobody laughed. Old Tobin, who has rounded the Horn nine times, spat over the rail and said the beast had earned its scar. I pegged in a new paw of lignum vitae that night by lantern. It is darker than the rest, so now the lion has a visible limp that everyone calls lucky.

I carved the whole thing facing forward, as Ferrier insisted. But this evening, with the sun going down red behind the mizzen, I looked at the face and saw it has turned its head a fraction to starboard, the way a dog looks back at the gate. I have not touched it. Tell Mother the lion is looking towards home, and I shall not be the one to correct it.