ebony the darkness or smth. [this a shitpost]

Unleash the Curtains

Sunlight flooded my room as soon as I awakened, my eyes rapidly fluttered--trying to cast out these unearthly rays. I laid, half-rolled in bed beating out God. I wish to get up and draw the curtains opposite to my bed, but I am far too weak. My ivory black hair whips around in bed with the same force of a thousand bats. I am Y/N, Ebony Darkness Queen of Bats.

My hands, weak and grimy, release me with hesitance from my prison of cloth and wood. I grit my teeth. My room is painted black, to the boards of the floor to the bumps on the ceiling. I cannot stand the light. My feet touch the floor. It is cold and hard, like ice in winter. I raise my heel and make the harrowing path towards the window."

          I approach the window at least. Alas, I am without the strength to draw these infernal curtains. My skin burns and scales off every moment I stand here, bracing the harsh sun. I wince and I wince. The sun is hot on my face, like lava. It is so painful yet I cannot draw upon my power to defeat it.

       "..I am Ebony the 3rd, I shall not be defeated," a murmur of confidence escaped my mouth, taking the form of a faint whisper. I face this horrible enemy, staring it face on. It is akin to the likes of a hydra, except rigid and transparent in appearance. I am not to be defeated by such a feigned monster. I narrow my eyes, casting my gaze upon it. My eyes are fixated upon the window and the window solely, my essence of misery and sheer strength.

          Shut! The sounds of fabric rustling together as they meet in the middle resonated in spacetime, making an impact for an eternity to come. My shield has been cast whilst I withheld my bony fingers. The light dissipated as my fragile room returned to its original condition.

"..."

       My lips purse. This has been a courageous victory, yet it seems there are more.. pressing matters. I click my tongue, approaching my Victorian dresser. The years have not treated it well, wood chipped from corners and paint flayed. If you were to run your fingers across it, you'd be covered in splinters from head to toe. But, such mortal pains do not burden me. For the matter of wear is of the present. I am dressed in my nightgown, it has been a family heirloom. A long, black dress made from raven feathers that can touch the floor. Ruffles decorate the dress with intricate designs. It is like a curtain, moping along in its preserved beauty until one is to shut it. That is besides the point. I start to rummage through my drawers. Black clothes of all sorts flood my sights with their macabre elegance. I cannot bear to don white clothes, for white is the harbinger of light, that is why I can present myself with the darkness--for it is the absence of light. A faint sound escapes my sound, combining with the racket of drawers sliding in and out. Then, another faint sound escaped. I had found what I wished to robe myself in! A dress akin to fit me! It is coated in black, with puffy sleeves. It is simple, but shan't that be of concern.  I would smile, but joy is weakness. And I, Ebony the Darkness, is not weak.

I hastily toss on my dress. I give it a twirl, watching it spin around on an axis, like a hamster on a wheel. A small vision appeared in my eyesight, it appeared to be a frail, black fabric that attached to my clothes. I had forgotten to oblige to you a small, thin veil of black that coated the end of the dress. "Twas a nice touch," a hushed whisper dispatched from my lips without thought.