It did not take her very long to reach the gates of the mansion, where the raven sat perched on a coil of darkened rope. Her brows lifted, and Stark cawed in amusement. “Grigorii hearing about,” he explained. “Grig dyeing when Stark asking. Hands all dark, very smelly, not coming out for weeks, Stark thinking.” He flapped onto her shoulder, bobbing his head, and she laughed as she grabbed the coils. She’d have to thank the Inferni newcomer later for helping out; this really sped things up. Stroking the bird’s feathery throat with a gentle finger, she grabbed the lengths of rope and headed back to the woods.
The tawny woman was surprised but glad to see that Sparrow had tied several lengths of twig and leaves to the foundation already, while Ithiel was voicing a question. She caught the back end of it but chose to ignore it, knowing she was clueless about these sort of things. Instead, she twirled some of the rope in her hand, waiting for the question to be sorted out before speaking.
“Got the rope. We could try to attach it now; I can climb all right, and Stark can help reach places we can’t.” Vesper shrugged her shoulder and sent the bird flapping up to the stand, where he watched them with intelligent beady eyes. “Maybe Ithiel can keep tying the leaves, since he’s getting the hang of it—I’ll need Sparrow to help me tie everything.” She gave her sister a kind, if not particularly warm, look.
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