It was a dream, he knew. Brought on by the horrorterrors now that his dreamself was dead, but a dream nonetheless. The cloying darkness around him was dreadfully familiar, despite him doing his best to avoid falling prey to his body’s need for rest. The rippling, uncertain lilt to Space could only be due to an unfortunate dream, even more obviously so with the screeches and reaching appendages forming in the darkness.
That knowledge didn’t stop the shock when this troll appeared from the Void -HimselfTheSignlessASaviorAHeroEverythingKarkatIsNot- Moreso when he reached for him, despite Karkats weapon. Didn’t lessen the surprise when Karkat struck him, acting on a sudden fear that this was as much a ploy to ruin his mind as anything. Yet he still drew the young troll close, closer, not caring about puncturing his chest and spewing mutant candy red blood into the void of the Furthest Ring.
Karkat wasn’t sure if he was more in shock of the horrorterrors in his peripheral, of the wave of calm that enveloped him within the arms of the bleeding hero that Karkat would never live up to be
or the sudden, throbbing ache in his chest when he startled painfully awake on the hornpile.
Hopefully that makes sense, I’m half asleep here. I’m very endeared to the thought of the Ancestors being guardians to the trolls, even though it’s way out of canon. I figured I could best fudge the lines with dream bubbles and the Void, so I went with that.