Since the dawn of time, flowers have always existed. First blossoming in the wake of the war between Land and Ocean, flowers were a peace offering from the Ocean to the Land. The very first among these flowers were roses, shining examples of beauty in a recovering world. Their beauty was appreciated by every animal on the land; that is until their beauty ran out. Every spring, the roses would spread their buds in brilliant displays, but every winter, the buds would shut out the world, curling into themselves. Many of the same animals who had appreciated the budding beauty of the roses lost their appreciation in the cold winter months, as the roses lost their beauty and became regular bushes. One winter, other flowers began to constrict the roses, seeing them as a waste of space, as the roses' beauty had faded. The roses could do nothing to stop them, begging for their lives, and wishing for change. But the flowers were relentless, and many roses were uprooted and killed in the days to come. Years and years of oppression built foundations of hate in the roses, until one day it came to fruition. Taking their hate and molding it, the roses created spikes from their hatred, which adorned their bodies. Whenever another flower attempted to strangle them, they would be poked and prodded, forcing them to let go. Today many roses have kept their thorns, remembering what they went through in the early years of the Earth. But though they have suffered from much, the roses still shine brightly, blossoming every summer, still not letting their beauty slip away.