The Silk Moth Dream (Season 1 Complete)

EPISODE 11: MOTH TO THE FLAME

Before moving into the monastery, Abin was born a bastard child into a noble family. He remembers the lavish roasts that servants would mount on their shoulders, drawing the wondrous gaze of hundreds of guests. He remembers glazed piles of persimmons atop a mountain of fresh cherry blossoms, perfumed by spring waters. Most of all, he remembers watching from the corner of the room, knowing that these festivities were only for his brothers who truly carried the family name — not bastard children like Abin.

It never bothered him much. He knew who he was born into and what that would mean for him. And that he never would have imagined anything like this.

To be fair, others probably wouldn't think that this is much. Left Behind is still on strict budget constraints, after all. But for the first time in months, the canteen is serving hot food and an abundance of alcohol, celebrating Left Behind's breakthrough success. All of the stern people that he's met over the past few weeks are slouched across one another, smiling and joking. There is a tension that's been released from the air.

And it's all because of him.

"Tell me honestly," says a heavily-pierced man, who claps Abin on the shoulder as if they're old friends. "You were shitting yourself there for a second, weren't ya?"

Abin smiles politely and takes a sip of his tea, while trying to remember the stranger's name. He draws blank, and decides that this is going to be one of those conversations. "I mean–" Then he stops short. He is so unfamiliar with the way these people joke and prod one another, as though there is no hierarchy between one another. As though no matter their background, they are equals. It would be improper for the other children to speak so loosely with the bastard. And even when he moved to the monastery, his peers outranked him in seniority and experience. "I suppose I would not like to be in that situation again, no."

"How humble!" The mystery heavily-pierced man guffaws. "Well, I'll tell you, I was shitting my pants. I thought for sure that we'd lost our magical monk as soon as we'd gotten him!"

"Cut him some slack, Maynard, he's earned it." Abin turns around to find Samantha Tran. She doesn't look a day over 20 but according to Fiona, she spent most of her childhood in one of the Sacramento gangs known as the White Tiger. Her streetwise and lethal background made her the perfect candidate for the direct action operations, which she's been leading for the past year since Shailene moved to a leadership position. Her partly shaved short straight hair is a chaotic mix between neon pink and azure, giving Abin a mild headache every time he looks at her. Those colors, as with most palettes in 2040, were not something he would have found back home.

Samantha glides over and sits next to Abin with ease as Maynard gets up for another drink. Her jet-black eyes look straight at Abin, twinkling with some new-found interest. Of all the Left Behind members, she has been the most distant during Abin's time here. Up close, Abin can see faint scar lines on her cheek and tiny tiger-shaped tattoos around her collarbone leading down to her swelled chest.

He snaps his gaze up, hopefully before she notices. Her smile meets his wandering gaze, and he is thrown off for a second by how normal she looks, despite the neon-colored hair, tattoos, scars, and the alleged history of violence, all of which would have made him steer clear in his past life.

"So tell me, Seraph," Abin notices glitter on her wet lips, and every word emits the sweet smell of alcohol. "How would you like to join my team permanently? You handled yourself like a pro back there."

Like a professional. Abin takes a moment to digest the word. A professional what, exactly? Abin realizes he doesn't know how to respond to Samantha's compliment. Samantha regards him for a moment, and leans closer to him, as though expecting something. Then he hears Maynard's jest from a table over. "Sam, I thought we were supposed to cut him some slack?"