Colour tattoo of a woman in a flower crown and a blue star-patterned dress beside a crescent moon, in blue and teal tones, on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Woman with crescent moon on upper arm

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A woman wearing a flower crown stands in a flowing blue gown decorated with pale dots, with a crescent moon behind her head. The figure is shaded smoothly, with soft blue washes and deeper navy tones forming a dark, swirling background around her. The design fills the upper arm in a vertical composition, with blue dominating and small areas of skin tone and pink in the flowers and face.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the fourth step, it lies about being solid, and pull your stool nearer the fire, for this is the part where the old king's cellar gets cold. My grandmother's grandmother swore she saw the Lady of Oranel the summer the river froze, and she said the Lady wore a gown of midnight wool sewn all over with pale dots, and every dot was a star she had pulled from the water with her own hands.

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Every night she sat at her loom in the north tower and wove the sky back together, and every morning the king's clerks climbed up to count what she had made. They wanted the stars for their ledgers. They wanted them for the crown, for the gilt on the gates, for the bright cloth they sold to the eastern merchants. The Lady told them the sky was not theirs to sell, so they locked her in the tower with a moon of brass hung over the door to keep her honest.

She did not weep. She took a thread of the river's own blue and began to unpick one star each night, setting it in a cup of woven reeds and floating it down the water, so the fishermen's children would have something to wish on once the king's lamps went out. She left her flower crown hanging on the loom, and the moon she had painted behind her head rose a little higher each evening, until the brass one over the door split straight down the middle.

When the king finally climbed the stairs himself, the loom was still warm and empty, the gown folded neatly across the sill. He looked up through the window and found the sky gone dark in one small patch, like a hole worn through a good blue cloth. Down in the valley the river glittered all the way to the sea, and nobody in Oranel has been able to count the stars since.

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