The Gaoler is a kind, sweet maiden, flowers nestled into her fur and a warm, pastel look.

But that warm smile can only hide so much. And that is a fact she is well aware of, as more blood-stained flowers spill out of her mouth, and how beautiful they would be, if it was not for how they seemed to be mocking her.

The pain that leaks in her throat is mixed with the feelings that overwhelm her, a sensation that threatens to rip her apart. Unrequited love is not uncommon, but it hurts, undoubtedly, leaving her voice hoarse, unable to even muster up the songs she so loved singing as a hatchling.

A curse; that is what had befallen her. One that forever reminded her that her love will never see her the same.