Ornate winged crest design in white and gold on a black background, with a golden triforce at its centre and paisley-style patterns across the wings.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Winged triforce crest design

Mixed · Flash

A symmetrical winged crest with a golden triforce at the centre, surrounded by white wings and a central shield-like shape. The white elements are filled with paisley, scroll and eye motifs in fine black linework, while the triforce is solid gold with black detailing. The crest sits on a faint dark mandala pattern that fills the background.

Wing Crest Eye Paisley Mandala Scroll Shield

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been coming down since six, so the Sunday market under the iron roof of the old Harrowgate yard smelled of wet cardboard and frying onions. I had my trestle by the drainpipe with a tin of loose buttons, two cracked gramophones and a box of brass nobody wanted. Gerald from the fishmongers' end wandered over with his tea and told me the crest at the bottom of that box had come off a ship's bell, though he said it like he didn't believe himself.

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It was a flat plate, heavier than it looked, with two white wings spread out from a shield and three gold triangles set point up in the middle. The top one had an eye cut into it, and when the lamp over my stall swung in the wind the eye seemed to take a second look at whoever was holding it. I'd rubbed the black out of the wings with vinegar and a toothbrush, and the paisley swirls came up like frost on a pane. I priced it at four pounds and didn't expect to sell it.

A girl in a yellow mac stopped at ten past two. She didn't ask the price. She put her finger on the eye and said her grandad used to tap that exact spot before he crossed the road, for luck, and that he'd lost his own crest in a flood in the seventies. She counted coins out of her pocket, damp and warm from her hand, and I found I couldn't name a figure.

I wrapped it in a page of the Gazette and watched her walk off under her umbrella, the wings catching the lamplight. When I packed up at four, the puddle beside my trestle had gone still and held the sky, and the rings from the rain spread and crossed over it in a pattern like a mandala, until nothing on the water stayed where it started.