I hope I didn't make Beclem too OOC, and I also apologize if I give the impression of bashing Beclem, because I'm really not. This is my first time writing a character drunk.
Best of Wishes
Baralai sits on the steps outside Besaid temple, the holy stone structure wreathed in garlands and tinsel and twinkling lights, watching friends new and old celebrate a new year.
Children native to this island frolic fearless in the dark and wave cotton candy as their flag of happiness. They sing carols and tap adults on the back using hand-made cornel sticks, wishing them health and hoping for coins to bless their eager palms. Not unlike these young ones, Gippal plans his mischief on the spot, slapping the Mevyn's back, demanding his aloof patience to concede and reward him gil. Until said man smacks him upside the head using his loyal and long cane.
Rikku follows her brethren's example, unleashing her epic goldfish from its plastic bag and allowing it to gravitate towards Paine, using the chocobo mask as her blind spot to fin-slap the warrior in the face. Strong wind gusts and dust particles and leaf fragments assault Rikku's vision, unable to see the yellow, cutesy disk flung in her direction. She snoozes only seconds later when hit by O-men with a vengeance.
A blonde, blue-eyed foreigner sneaks up on Paine from behind, who's too smug of her handiwork to sense him approach and armed to the teeth. Air-blown paper flaps and explosive pops deafen her ears, and Paine jumps out of her skin. Colorful confetti blinds her ruby-eyed glare, and she brandishes her chocobo mask in promise to inflict harm. Tidus's laughter falters in the face of death, the white stick of his eaten lollipop falling from his mouth, and he throws his hands up in surrender.
"C-C'mon, Paine, don't be like that. I only wanted you to have fun. I didn't mean to make y– uh, w-what are you doin– wait a sec– I SAID I DIDN'T MEAN IT!"
The Besaid Aurochs point and laugh at the spectacle. Nearby the leader of the island sits with his beloved matron, slapping his knee at the hilarity while Lulu nurses their infant. Vidina gazes at the crowd of celebrators with curious, red eyes.
"Let's leave our worries behind and have us some fun!"
Dancing in her pink kimono, geta clacking under agile feet and temari bouncing on slim wrists, Yuna's smile glows amidst magical, lethal fireworks. Her innocent energy and resilient optimism tantalizes him. Baralai slips his hands into the folds of his yukata sleeves, attention riveted on his lady Summoner, harboring a crush inevitable to start with. Slayer of Sin, triggerman of Vegnagun, my savior, a maiden in possession of his heart. By the climax of the Vegnagun conflict, Yuna spared him from the brutal hands of Nooj's bloody plan. She considered him a friend despite hostile associations and validated said friendship when she prioritized his life over death, using "love" to quell the demon that lay claim to his willpower and sanity.
Yuna has done so much for the world, when all his efforts strove to push her away that he wonders, always, whether or not she forgives him. Without the holy grace of his lady summoner, the world wouldn't be alive to witness another year. 'Without Yuna, I wouldn't be alive, never to see my friends again, let alone make more memories too good to be true.'
"She's a sight to behold, ain't she?"
"Yes. She is," Baralai says, dazed. The tipsy remark startles him too late when a young man plops down beside him, stifling a hiccup and two behind a sluggish fist. "Er, hello, sir." Due to the dark evening and the alcoholic glow in his shadowed eyes, Baralai doesn't recognize the man. Shoulder length hair slicked back to expose his forehead, so many stress lines for someone so young. A maroon tunic and khaki shorts show his masculine physique; Baralai muses he must be a warrior.
"It's rather surprising, cuz you see here sir Praetor, she ain't... hiccup!... used ta be like that." He winces at the strong residue of wine pervading his personal space, yet says nothing when the drunk continues to prattle on. "To think some g-girl with a pretty face saved the world, and... and... speaks pretty words to a world re-re... ripped apart from its stupid religion, a whole leader-less nation begging for guidance, but... she was worse off..." Disdainful of this man's opinionated criticism, Baralai looks away and listens only with one ear, uncomfortable to be interacting with a wasted man. Drunk people are rather unpredictable and paranoia convinces him they are dangerous as well.
"Summoners, they outlasted their usefulness. W-What... hiccup, good to us are they now... just ordinary people, whining over the fact their big dream of a... grand suicide attempt doesn't work... no more..." Grateful of the lingering silence, Baralai sighs, ruminating over the words of a loosened tongue despite himself. Warm, solid pressure slumps on his legs without warning, startling Baralai to react, grasping his shoulder to shake him.
"Excuse me, sir, but will you refrain from tou–."
"Yuna is Spira's light." His hand freezes, shocked by the confession. Sincerity slips off his tongue in sleepy slurs. "She... she cares about us... all of us... more than anyone..." The muscles relax and snores resound; he must have dozed off. Heaving a sigh, Baralai moves him to face the starry sky, withdrawing a handkerchief from within the folds of his obi to wipe the small line of drool off his chin. He resolves to look after him until he sobers up, and prevent possible death during intoxicated sleep.