Ouroboros Tattoo Meaning Novels & Stories

“What’s this tattoo for?” Jase shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Originally, it was a punishment when I was sixteen as a reminder that I was fifth in the crew. Now it signifies my team, the five men of Chaos. I think I might have Lachlan alter it to make it a six so that you’re included in that number,” Jase says thoughtfully. “You can’t add to it with every new member of the family, silly man,” I say merrily. He grabs my hand from his face and kisses my knuckles. “Sure I can. I have my personal tattoo artist, after all.” He smirks, looking over my shoulder at me.

“No names. Just whispers. An old symbol resurfaced recently. An Ouroboros biting its own tail. That’s the mark they’re using.” That sent a chill straight down my spine. Ouroboros. It was an ancient symbol originating from the Egyptian and Greeks. The Ouroboros symbolizes the endless cycle of life, death and rebirth as well as the unity of all things and the eternal nature of the universe. Self-consuming. Eternal. A syndicate born from death, living in the decay of the old world. “Where did you see it?” “Warehouse district. Dock twelve. Someone’s been renting it under ghost contracts.”

A man in a suit walked in. "Miss." His nod was sharp. He held out a phone. "Mr. Moretti wants to talk. About the painting." I took the phone. "Elena," a deep male voice came through, with a faint Italian accent. "Your painting is... interesting." "Thank you." "Do you know what the Ouroboros means?" "Eternity," I answered without hesitation. "Destruction and rebirth." There was a pause on the other end. "Good. Walk out of the gallery. Get in the car. We need to talk."

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

Much like the man himself! Asides from the writing the tattoo looks like Something older, darker, heavier than anything I’ve ever seen. It snakes across his chest in a pattern that feels… almost alive. There’s a drawing of a serpent or is it a dragon?, its body curling and twisting in a perfect ouroboros on the left side of his torso, scales etched so finely I swear I could almost feel them under my fingertips. His heart beats beneath it, steady, slow, eternal, and it’s like the tattoo moves with him, shifting slightly as he exhales.

I also had a few buttons undone on my bottom shirt to show off some of my tattoos and my sculpted muscles. I have a lot of tattoos on my body they each mean something. The one on my bicep is in Latin 'Obsidian est vita mea' which means My life is obsidian. On my back, chest, and stomach I have some tattoos related to my family, my inner gang, and to my gang. I have some on my hands but they represent me and some of the ones on my arm. I leave my room to find my inner gang. I find all of them in the living room drinking some of my very expansive bourbon.

She was still contemplating the answer in her head when she heard a door open and feet shuffling into the room; her head immediately turned to the direction of the sound and at that moment she wondered why the ground didn't open and let her fall in. Liam had a towel tied around his waists as he stepped out of the bathroom; his hair was wet, and a bunch fell over his face; his torso was bare, thus exposing a good amount of his chiseled abs, there was a phoenix tattoo. A mythical firebird with roots in both Greek and Egyptian lore, it rises from the ashes to signify rebirth. The tattoo started from his left chest and on his ribs inching downwards to his waist line which was incredibly sexy; If

Touching her tattoo, I ask her what it means. “I don’t know how to explain it. You’ll think I’m crazy if I do,” she says. “Try me. I’ve had my fair share of crazy,” I offer in response. “I had the tattoo done after suffering a loss a few years back,” she explains. Pointing at it, she continues, “You see this? It’s called a Nautilus shell. Can you see how it curls up into itself, almost like it’s never ending? For me, that represents infinity with no end and no beginning.”

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

“The tattoo you already have. The rose and dagger. My sister had the same one. Like, exactly the same, except hers was larger than yours. I was wondering how you ended up with that design?” “A-all of us have one. I mean, all of the Sentinel do.” Ayrelles puts her hand over her collarbone and looks confused. “It, um, represents our spirits’ journeys.” “The beauty of the journey is worth the danger.” Bronx and Les say at the same time. “That’s the Sentinel motto.” Les squints her eyes. “How did you know that?” Bronx rubs his hands together and looks past Les at a photo of Lenora, Ashley, and me on the shelf behind her. “Because that is what Lenora told me when I asked her if she was sure she w