It’s amazing how much ritual accumulates over the centuries: the robes, the candles, the drawings on the floor and ceiling, the interminable prayers and invocations. The virgin and the knife were the only things that were really necessary. She didn’t even need to be pretty. In truth, she needn’t even be a girl. Even the bowl was extra; after all, he could lap the blood off the stone floor just as easily.
Perhaps he would institute some reforms now that he had descended to this plane of existence. Couldn’t hurt. One really can’t let these things get out of hand.