Black and grey realism tattoo of a woman in a feathered headdress flanked by two cats, covering the upper arm and shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Woman portrait with feathered headdress on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A large portrait of a woman wearing a feathered headdress, with two cat heads with multiple eyes at the crown and a pendant necklace at the base. The woman's face and head are rendered in fine, smooth shading with detailed hair and feather textures. The design is entirely in black and grey ink and wraps around the upper arm and shoulder against a dark background.

Realism Upper arm Shoulder Woman Portrait Feather Headdress Cat Necklace Animal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cat came down the companionway at six bells with all three of her eyes open, which was how Nell Garrow knew the weather had turned before the glass in the saloon did. She set the porridge pot back on the hob and wiped her hands on her sack apron. Tobias, the mate, had been telling everyone the Halcyon was a sweet old brig, and he was not wrong about the sweetness. But the cat had never been wrong about weather either.

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"Batten the hatches," Nell told the boy scrubbing pans. "And take the good flour up to the lamp room before it gets wet." He looked at her as though she had lost her wits, then looked at the cat, then went. The cat, whose name was Mrs Pim, leapt onto the copper rail above the stove and sat with her tail wrapped around her feet, staring at nothing with eyes that seemed to be looking at things a long way off: the swell, the cloud bank, the bottom of the sea.

By the eighth bell the wind had come round to the north-east and the brig was heeling hard. Black water found its way through the deckhouse seams, quick as ink on blotting paper, and the flour sat dry in the lamp room as Nell had said. Tobias came down soaked to the skin and stood dripping at the galley door, looking at her the way men look at a cook when they owe her an apology they haven't yet found the words for.

"Your cat," he said at last.

Nell lifted the little tin compass from the hook where she kept it, the one her father had soldered for her the year before he drowned, and fastened the chain at her throat. The needle swung, wavered, and settled north. She ladled out the porridge for the watch, one bowl after another, and did not look up when the first hard rain hit the skylight.