icarus.
@osilentphoenix
It was the dawning--the beginning of battle, a war; the end of all beginnings. The fleet that occupied the channel was monstrous, and to consider anything short of success was laughable. Cao Wei’s armada doubled, if not tripled that of the coalition forces of Shu and Wu; victory would be decisive and swift, and it would shatter the morale and momentum of the opposing militias. To say that Cao Cao was confident was nothing short of the truth, and quite frankly, he had every reason to be.
--But it was at the heart of the argosy that Cao Cao stood, eyes cast out towards the setting sun as it painted the shear, rocky cliffs in hues of scarlet and titian. At his back, darkness had already overtaken the sky, and the torches lining distant encampments flickered in the stillness upon the shore. His eyes narrowed then, mind shifting from confidence to morbid remembrance through the silence punctuated only by the sloshing of water beneath each rocking boat, and he thought on how Ang might have shared great pride in Wei’s accomplishments thus far, in comparison to Pi’s grave silence.
Two compare vastly different individuals was unreasonable, but also unavoidable. While much had fallen into Cao Pi’s favour after the untimely death of Cao Cao’s eldest son, much more pressure also befell his shoulders. Expectations that might have never seemed significant, accomplishments that never quite compared to that of Ang’s, and a lifestyle Cao Cao expected. Ang was, indeed, the perfect fit to take Wei’s reins once Cao Cao’s time had come to pass, but not all played out as he had initially planned or desire. Nothing did, truth be told, but that was life despite his attempt keep control.
“Zihuan,” he began abruptly, to draw his son’s attention; breaking from his own thoughts to share eventual wisdom. A lesson, but also warning. "Were Zixiu here, where do you believe you would now be?” Cao Cao’s favourtism was evident--for Ang was not only the eldest, but talented and loyal. In his youth, Pi had been quiet, though differently than he was now. Mengde expected much--as he did of anyone with notable worth--but with his son, it was exponentially more.
“--And where do you expect to be going forward?”
