Linmark was a cold place, a very cold place. Those people born there were accustomed to snow falling winter and summer, to the sun never reaching as high above the horizon as it did in other regions and to the ubiquity of ice. Setariél, despite his other self that was as undesired as it was rather new, was no exception to this. He had felt quite comfortable beneath a thick layer of cloth and fur as long as there had been chill winds and dark nights, but the further he had traveled towards Khrousahvell the more rare these conditions had become. His body just wasn't equipped for this kind of warm environment, so despite not having to walk himself but sitting on a horse-drawn cart Setariél had started sweating. By the time the man had reached what was bound to be the epicentre of the festival he had actually disposed of as many clothes as one reasonably could without breaking common societal rules.

Not hindered by any kind of sleeves, sunlight continuously pounded the skin around his tremendous bi- and triceps and did the same to the major part of his legs. He'd probably regret this within hours, but not exposing his pale skin to too much sunlight meant that he'd have to expose his body to too much heat and he held silent hopes for the former problem fixing itself much faster by adaptation. On the plus side of things it didn't seem like many people were paying much attention to his appearance. Apparently they had too much else to do or they thought of this actually being some kind of costume based on a lot of mere paint Setariél imagined.

Setariél had mixed himself into the very heterogenous and no less large crowd of people who were paying attention to the plethora of attractions, businesses and other things the festival had to offer. The slow current of people was pushing him into more or less chaotic directions, but at least he was able to see over the other people's heads and keep track of where things were going. How many mead drinking contests had he already passed while struggling with the temptation to try and beat them ? If it had not been for the awesome artistic performance of some of his countrymen and -women distracting him he would certainly have given in to the last one. Anyway... a large bag of sweets had already found its way onto his elbow and greedy consumption had set in. He'd probably come out of this festival a little bigger than he had come in, but still this was much preferable to ending up totally drunk.

After all, Setariél tried to remind himself, he had serious business to do. He was not here for indulging himself, but rather because of investigation that required a clear mind. Those visions were discomforting, he didn't want to have those unasked interruptions! Still Linmark had no lack of people taking magic and supernatural stuff serious and he himself had no intent to just ignore the message they delivered. Well... at least they delivered one and weren't just random nonsense. And then, just as the giant male was about to toss another piece of candy into his gaping mouth, it hit him:

[b]“… You… You are here! A… Oh how wonderful! Please… Please find my child…! Aaaalll… All will be made, clear… you must trust me.”[/b]

Setariél started coughing the hell out of himself -- candy was no good it one's respiratory system. By bowing forwards and clapping onto his back with his own hands as hard as he could, he pushed aside the crowd around him vigorously. Those... damn... visions! The nicely colored piece of sugar finally came out flying and Setariél sat down on the ground in order to calm himself. Now what to do... What kind of child had this voice been talking about ? Finding any kind of person during this festival felt like a challenge being next to impossible.