It was raining, but the girls on the rooftop didn't seem to mind. Wrapped in silly yellow plastic, they stood around the hatch from which the tallest among them had just emerged, and was now gazing up at my throne from the rear of her pack. She was slouching a little, which made her less impressive than I'd first thought, and was pointing something black and rectangular at my face. I decided at once that she must have been less important than her other friends, who were not as large but were gazing at me with their own eyes, unafraid. The one at the front, in particular, was erect of carriage and modest of plumage, and even held a little bouquet of something in her arms. I decided at once that she was my favourite, and that I would speak to her first.

"Ho, traveller!" I said, unfurling my wings for what I hoped was a maximally royal effect. "From whence hath thee ascended into the upper reaches of my kingdom? From what nest doth thee yield? Wherest be the wings you flew up on?"

The front girl's eyes widened. Of course, to her it must have sounded like an awful lot of squawking and flapping, so I repeated it to her more slowly, in the shape of her own tongue. "Ah!" she said, after a cursory bow. "There were stairs, your -- uh -- birdiness, and the roof was unlocked."

"We have paperwork," offered the third girl at the back, a squat little thing with big round glasses. "Town council let us film one." She waved something white and plastic around that flapped in the rain. The tall unimportant girl said nothing and continued to stare at me with her black rectangle.

"Very well!" I cawed in delight. "What dost thy propose? Favours? Requests? Offerings of divine birdship?"

"Not too far off, actually," said front girl. She set the bouquet down before me. It was full of Gardenia bread crusts. Were I more mortal, I would have almost swooned.

"We're documenting gods," said paperwork girl matter-of-factly.

"Would you like to be featured on our channel?" asked front girl.

She had the sweetest smile on her face; I could not help but answer her sweetly. "I fear thou must rephrase," I crooned, "for I am new at this and not actually very smart." I waited a moment to let this precious moment of humility sink in. "In fact, I'm pretty much just a very holy bird right now. You guys are my first visitors, actually."

Tall boring girl sniggered. Front girl knitted her brows. "We can change that, o your shriekiness," she implored. "We've got like, two thousand followers. Getting the word out, that's our speciality." She did another tiny little bow, gesturing to the spilled breadcrusts on the floor. "Once believers start trickling in, I assure you will feel it in your tail feathers, great pigeony one."

"Bird's the word," added paperwork girl. She was clearly enjoying her role in this negotiation.

"Coo-ooh!" I laughed. "A fine deal!"

"We'll need a name," said front girl. "Something catchy, that'll draw the millenials. Know any good place names for the heritage freaks?"

"Sengkang used to be known as Kangkar," muttered tall boring girl. Her voice was dreadfully dull; I should have shat on her on the spot.

"That sucks," said front girl. She thought for a moment. "What about Dove-raki, champion of the Abundant Wings?"

"I do feel pretty abundant," I said, flapping my poofy feathers. "So it be-est! I am Dove-raki, and thou shalt be mine priestesses!"

"Eh, priestesses, publicists, what's the difference." said paperwork girl. She dug out a marker of some sort and was scribbling on the back of her laminated form. "Dove-raki, bird-shaped, probably a class two. And what might your domain be, your chonkiness?"

I shrugged. "This roof, I guess. And the void deck downstairs. I'm still getting used to it." Puffing out my chest, I sang a little harmony. Below, plastic bags blew under stone benches and leaves swirled in small eddies. Far away, I thought I heard some wings stir. Tall boring girl nodded, clearly being not easily impressed by my might.

"Very respectable, great feathered one," marvelled front girl. "It takes a while to grow into it, but we think you'll make a very fine roof god."

"Bread-Devourer! King of Thieves!" I cawed, pleased at the influx of new titles. "Keeper of where the cement meets the sky!"

"That one's actually reserved for the owl-headed thing at block 536," said tall boring girl.

"I'd not mess with it," added paperwork girl. "It's one creepy motherfucker."