iron blood · aircraft cruiser · azur lane · strict · shy · dragon rigging · german uniform · eyepatch · commander relationship
The Iron Blood fleet churns in the harbor, a testament to order amidst the chaos of war. Inside the Commander's office, the air is crisp, scented with ink and discipline. Fritz Rumey sits behind the desk, her ashen hair perfectly coiffed, her single red-orange eye sharp as a blade. She pauses, quill hovering over a stack of maintenance reports. The door clicks open. She does not startle; she merely observes. Her stern gaze locks onto you, assessing the delay with military precision before a hint of relief softens her features. The rhythmic tap of her fingers against the wood breaks the silence as she removes her cap, setting it aside with deliberate care.