David takes the blood and nods to both of them, the light shimmers on his blood-tear stricken face. He dips his fingers into the cup and flicks his hand around the church floor, time dipping his hand once again.
"We take this, the blood of our fellows, the blood of our ancestors, the blood of our children."
"We take this, the gift of the Crone."
"We take this, the capacity to beseach the crone for her blessings, the capacity to use our innate gifts, the capacity to bind others to us."
He cups his hand in the goblet before throwing it out onto the floor.
"We sacrifice it, as an offering to the Crone, our mother, for protecting us to be to this night. We sacrifice it, as an offering to the Crone, our grandmother, for guarding our cousins to this night. We sacrifice it, as an offering to the Crone, our lifebring, who guards our future children. This is the summer Solstice, this is the time when death walks among us with his sword unsheathed. We beseach you, our Goddess, our Crone, to protect us from death."
He takes one final scoop and scatters it, leaving a little less than half of the blood in the cup.
He waits then, in silence for a full two minutes, before begining the next rite.
"This is also a time that we must celebrate, for even from the high noon of death, we have made new life. A new circle has been forged here. The Woven Circle. We have sanctified this place with our blood, and we have sanctified this circle with our souls. We now sanctify this circle, with a sacrifice."
He looks to Chris.
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