Outside the hab room, Kasen sits on a chair wearing a pair of human Denim jeans alone. He is eight months old now, and has grown much since you last saw him at his mother's passing barely two months ago. Roughly the same height as you, his muscular chest ripples underneath red carapace plates, already opaled a deep lapis.
As you emerge he looks up, immediately seeing the clan leader pendant his father wore all his life. Immediately his feelers droop in grief, blazing red eyes half closed. Walking to him, you put an arm on his shoulder consolatively before giving the symbol to him. Staring down at the trinket in his padded hand for a moment, he puts it on and activates the electro-clasp before looking over to you.
"He will recieve a human space burial." you reassure Kasen, a quiet nod returned before you walk towards the exit, Hlabtu walking beside you as the corridor behind you shuts down.
Soon, too soon, Kasen will die. As will his children, and their children. In a way, watching them die is your curse. You sometimes wish that they hadn't saved you from the Garthah conflict and adopted you as Clansman. The gift is too much to bear, at times like this.
But you have seen much, and learned more. From the sideline you watched as a bloodline took it's first baby steps into the unknown of space, watching them become hardened voidfarers through the generations as they come and go. Each looks up to you for advice, as oldest member of the clan. To them, you have been around since the beginning of all. In reality you have barely even changed in appearance, but in resolve and purpose you remain as resolute as the day you pledged to watch over them.
Where they go, you will be there, guiding with a soft hand. Until even you must make the journey across your own astra, and explore the great unknown of death.