#goetia

Hail Othiel

It's been a while since I made a goetia oc a quick pic

"You and I aren't that different."

Raum is a great earl of hell. While powerful, he is often dubbed a demon of deceit.

Suited for city life

Yet another Marrow story this time an adult Marrow has wandered into the territory of Countess Jean Goetia, An eccentric and rigid Goetia known for her often fetishistic obssession with suits and uniforms, something Marrow isn't too fond off luckily Jean has her magic berets Jean Goetia inspired by :iconflamerthedragon: aka toamac.bsky.social 's character Jean

Nothing is added

Zagan is the sigil I reach for when I want to think about change.

In the old grimoires he's a strange, practical figure — a king and president among the seventy-two spirits, and the entries about him read almost like a list of party tricks. Water into wine. Blood into wine. Wine back into water. Metal into coin. And, tucked in at the end, the one that isn't a trick at all: he is said to make fools wise.

What strikes me about that list is what's missing from it. Nothing is imported. No new substance shows up. Water was already there; wine was already there; the fool was already there. Every item is the same material, turned. That's a much older and stranger idea of transformation than the one we usually run on, which is mostly acquisition — get more, add on, bolt something new to the front of your life.

Tracing works the older way. You don't gain anything by doing it. There is no new material at the end of thirty evenings; there's the same pen, the same hand, the same set of lines you've now followed thirty times. And yet the thing is not where it started. The attention has been rearranged. Whatever was scattered has been turned toward one place, over and over, until it holds.

I think that's why the fool-into-wise line sits at the end of his entry rather than the beginning. It's the same operation as the wine and the water, just run on a person. Experiences vary, and I'd call this reflection rather than advice.

There is a small tradition in Japan called otakiage — the ceremonial burning of things that have served their purpose. Old amulets, letters, dolls that have been loved too long to simply throw away. The fire is not a verdict. It is a farewell, done properly.

I have been thinking about what it means to end something well. We are very good, in this era, at acquiring — feelings included. We collect grievances, regrets, small unspoken hopes, and they sit in us the way old letters sit in a drawer. Somewhere between keeping and discarding, there ought to be a third thing: sending away, with care.

That is what I am building.

It is called NIKO TSUKIHI — tsuki for moon, hi for fire. Twice a month, in rhythm with the sky. Under the full moon, you write what you wish to release. Under the new moon, what you wish to welcome. Your letter is printed, paired with a sigil or a line of sacred script chosen for your intention, and burned with care. The ashes are carried to a nearby river — released first by fire, and then by water. You receive a video of the ceremony.

For a few minutes, under a moon you can also see, your words are treated as if they matter. Because they do.

The first ceremony is on August 13th, at the new moon. A fitting night, I thought, for a beginning.