Anton places a worn chalice onto the drainage tiles, clutching the pale arm poking through the tarp in a ragged hand, torn up with promises of Purpose. He turns to the gathered and recites communion in the same battering ram rasp he'd used to deliver the start of his sermon.
"What return will I make to the Lord for all He has given to me? I will take the chalice of Damnation, and I will call upon the Name of the Lord. Praising will I call upon the Lord and I shall be saved from my enemies."
Brandishing his old knife, Anton drags it across the arm of the whimpering tarp bulk. Blood gushes onto the ground in thick gobbets, filling the chalice. The rest of it circles the drain. The communion vessel continues to bleed as the Bishop bears the chalice in two hands, staring out at the congregation.
"May the Blood preserve my soul. I am Sanctified."
Anton drinks from the chalice reverentially. He approaches each Sanctified, bidding them to drink and echo the ritae.