Kyle
*She had the dead taken, their own to camp, to be wrapped temporarily until a return to Windhelm. She had some soldiers Bury the Imperials and Altmer. 

She returned to the Camp, to her tent, removed her helmet. She approached Shorfrid with the Prisoner. The blood she was just covered in was gone. Odd.*

"Everything good here? Are you hurt?"
Melody
Shorfrid shook her head in answer to being hurt.

"No." She responded succinctly. "How are our injured?" She asked curiously.

She then looked down at the captive and back to her commander.

"We taking them to Windhelm, Sir? Or whats it called the dunmer say; Sera?" She offered the honorific carefully, trying to make sure to pronounce it as she'd once heard.
Kyle
"He's going straight to Galmar. Might be worse than death. This noble is a War Criminal, who used a private force to Profit off of the Night of Green Fire. If i had killed him earlier, it would be a mercy."

*She went to a more solemn tone.*

"Our wounded are fine. We lost two. We'll be leaving in the morning."

*She went to her tent to relax, as much as she could. But it was open.*
Melody
Shorfrid loked at the elf, her eyes not meeting his face, just his chest at the nearest.

"So be it then." She grimmly replied. Her attention turned to look out towards the others in the camp. Then back to the mighty commander with a shrug.

"Do we let the rest of em crack open the kegs then? Or should we save the celebration for Windhelm?" She asked with a sudden pleasantness, the youth of her returning in anticipation.
Kyle
*She thought.*

"Eh, why not. They wouldn't be looking for him for another three days. Bring me some a bottle of black briar, if you will."

*She would return to her tent and remove her cuirass. Her arm... Hurt like hell. After it was broken, just never felt right.*
Melody
Shorfrid nodded affirmatively. 

"Yes Sera!" She twosted energetically around on her heels and bolted to the boys to give them the news. A cheer would let out from the remaining troop.

Some time after, the unblooded shield-sister returned with a bittle of black briar reserve, and a lable-less ceramic bottle that smelled surely like a honey mead, but with mountain floral addition.

 "The boys looted this one off the elf carriage. Otherwise I don't know where you keep your good mead. Not that anyone is complaining." She giggled out. Her cheeks either rosy from the brisk dry wind, or she was warmed enough by the mead already.
Kyle
*She was in a cutoff undershirt now. You couldn't tell she wasn't a full nord, she was yoked under all that holy chainmail. The cold didn't seem to bother her at all. She took both bottles.*

"Maven's a right bitch but she makes the best. And this..."

*She examined the Ceramic bottle.*

"Lillandril Honey-Wine. My father used to drink it, he started during the war."

*She stared at it. It made her think of home. She set it on a table.*

"I don't hate them. The Altmer. I hate what they've become."
Melody
Shorfrid definitely blushed a little redder at the sight of the muscular woman's boosted bucepts. She let the two bittles go with a goofy smile on her face.

"Yeahhh... I aint obviously been to their little island kingdom but i figure maybe they're like most of us here. They just live within the borders the the dominion. Uts the thalmor that are dregs, and the civies have to deal with it. Sure plenty drink the thalmor wine, and live life assuming elven superiority. But most probably know better but can't do anything about it." She paused for a moment to drink the last swig of the keg mead from her tankard. "Suuure plenty are haughty bastards still, but theres a difference between being just an arse and thalmor right?" She offers in her long winded drunken opinion. "I just fight for the folks to worship talos, and because the empire cant care fer itself let alone all us provincials"