Celestia winced her eyes. She covered her ears. But still, nothing was working! Nothing. Another second longer and she didn’t know what she would do.
“And then I said, ‘Whoa, whacko zombie chick, put your clothes and skin back on, I’m not that type of guy. Well, the type of guy who has enough to pay for that.’ And you know what she said to me. Well, she had the gall to—”
“I don’t care! I don’t, I don’t, I don’t!” Celestia screamed at the top of her lungs. She was terribly close to ripping out hooffuls of her mane, and at that point, the pain would have been a blessing if it could drown out the incentive talking of her date. Or rather, her date’s talking skull companion… who could float for whatever reason.
Morte the floating skull turned to Celestia’s true date and said, “See, Chief, I knew this gal was bad news. We should ditch her first chance we can get. Say you need to use the bathroom, then let’s cheese it.”
“I’m right here you know!”
Morte turned to her, the flesh of his eyeballs contrasting with the lifeless features of his skull… which was pretty much all there was of him. He was literally a floating skull. How he floated, Celestia didn’t know, and how he could talk without lungs, vocal cords, lips, and a tongue, she didn’t know either, and how exactly his eyeballs worked without a working brain, well… at that point Celestia pretty much gave up hope trying to make sense of him. All she knew was that he didn’t need a mouth or tongue to talk, and apparently the lack of them made him talk more. Endlessly more.
“Oh, riiiiiiight. So, yeah, Chief, how does that plan sound?”
Celestia growled at the skull that broke the theory of gravity, and rather than throw him against the restaurant wall, she glanced to her date. “Don’t you think this date would be much more enjoyable with just the two of us, Mister… uh… what was your name again?”
Her date swept some of his dreadlocks out of his soulless, grey eyes, and took a sip of his water. “I don’t have one.”
“Pardon?”
He sighed, resting his chin on his hand. His skin was an unhealthy shade of green, coupled with veins and wrinkles in such great abundance it appeared he was rotting from the outside. In fact, some of the wrinkles actually appeared to be scars, but in such great abundance the skin underneath was almost unrecognizable. Celestia couldn’t even begin to imagine how long it’d take to acquire all of them. Yet he appeared to be around thirty, and from Celestia’s careful note of his bulging muscles and impeccable six pack abs, was in remarkably good condition. Although his attire of skulls, bones, bandages, and leather as armor certainly didn’t help with his appearance, other than the fact he had those amazing abs proudly on display, which Celestia appreciated immensely.
“I literally have no name. I am typically just called ‘The Nameless One’ by everyone.” He shrugged, picking at his meal with a fork. “You soon learn to roll with it.”
“Well, if this date is to continue, I must call you by something.” Tapping her chin, Celestia sized him up a few times… for careful approximation, of course. Finally, she cleared her throat. “How does Nameless sound?”
“Anticlimactic,” Morte said.
“Good enough for me,” Nameless answered.
Celestia scowled at Morte, who—even without functioning eyelids or eyebrows—scowled back. “Like I said before, I think this date would go much more swimmingly if a certain dinner guest wasn’t currently present.”
“You know, she’s right, Chief.” Morte dunked his head in a bowl of ice cream and started devouring the icy treat right then and there (where the ice cream went is a question better left to the gods, who all collectively agree even they don’t know). “We would be having such a lovely time together if she wasn’t here.”
“I don’t leave Morte. Ever.” Nameless crossed his arms. “He’s the only one who knows of my past. I can’t lose him.”
“Your… past?”
Morte rolled his eyes, vanilla dripping out from between his teeth. “Oh great, now you’ve opened the floodgates.”
“What?”
Nameless grunted. “What you call floodgates, I call personal turmoil. Upon the beginning of my life in my world, all my memories were lost. Now, I am on a quest to retrieve them and discover who I truly am.”
Celestia’s jaw hung open, and she glanced to Morte to gauge his reaction as well. He just popped the cherry between his teeth and swallowed, a few seconds later burping out a seed that splattered against Celestia’s cheek.
“Well, to make a more condensed and overall less confusing explanation of the troubles that hang over the Chief’s shoulders, here’s the dealio. Chief here is immortal, in the sense each time he dies he comes back to life, except with no memories of his previous life. He’s like a copy without the substance. A flame without the candle. A whore without the—”
“That’s enough, Morte,” Nameless said, cutting him off. Morte groaned, but soon returned to his ice cream gorging. “What he has said is true. I am without a past. But I hope that with you, I will be able to have a future.”
“Wait, why me?” Celestia asked. “Not that I’m not flattered or anything, but wouldn’t your, erm, friend Morte be more insightful than I?”
Morte would have answered, but he was too busy crying over his brain freeze from rapid ice cream consumption. The two wisely ignored his cries of pain.
“Morte does not know everything that happened to me. There was… a period that we were separated. I did many things I regret. Many things before that too. From what he’s told me, I actually sought out immortality to atone for the sins from a crime that I cannot remember. But apparently it was so bad that it caused my homelands to slowly wither and die. Which leads up to the entire ‘my soul is damned forever no matter what I do’ part.” Nameless sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Basically, I became immortal so I wouldn’t be sent to an eternity of suffering upon my death. Except my immortality was screwed up, resulting in me resurrecting with no memories of my previous life every time I die.”
“Wow… I have to admit, out of all the immortality backfires, that’s probably the worst I’ve heard,” Celestia admitted. “I can’t even begin to imagine what it’d be like to have past incarnations I have no idea about.”
“I’ve actually met a few of them. They were very unpleasant individuals.” Nameless stared aimlessly in the distance and frowned. “Very unpleasant individuals.”
“But that still doesn’t answer my question of how you think I can help you.”
Nameless looked to her, his empty eyes freezing waterfalls from releasing a single drop. “I’m not exactly sure of that either. Perhaps I was hoping your magic could find a cure for my condition. Maybe a way to keep my memories upon any of my deaths. Or even a way to circumvent the deaths altogether… one way or the other.”
Celestia frowned, reaching out to rest a hoof over his hand. “Nameless, I’m not exactly sure I’m capable of helping you. I mean, my magic is great, but for what you ask, I’m not entirely positive I can do what you request.”
Nameless withdrew his hand and stood up. “It wasn’t a request, Celestia, merely a wish. Another wish I wasted.” Nameless picked Morte up off the ice cream bowl, his moans having finally died down. “Sorry to waste your time. The bill is already paid. I hope you have a nice night.”
Celestia bit her lip, hesitantly raising a hoof before Nameless had taken a few steps. “Wait, Nameless!”
Nameless turned around, staring from underneath his dreadlocks.
“I may not know how to find a way to help you now. But if I do more research in it, maybe request the help of my student, Twilight, I’m sure I can find a cure for you. Or at least some way to end the torment.” Celestia smiled meekly. “It is the least I can do for someone who has been such a kind and mannerly date to me.”
“You’re welcome!” Morte shouted.
“Not you!”
Nameless raised a hand, Morte floating lazily from his palm. “I thank you, Celestia, for your charity. If only I had something to repay you with.”
“Oh please, no payment is necessary,” Celestia said. “In fact, I simply must insist you stay in my castle in the meantime while I’m researching a spell to help you. I have plenty of rooms to spare.”
Nameless smiled, such an expression rare for his face. “Your kindness truly knows no ends. I’ll move in right away. You now have my name if it ever need to be called for assistance.”
“I’ll have servant accommodate you as soon as you’re ready.”
Nameless, still smiling as wide as can be, exited the restaurant with a hop and skip in his step. But Morte remained behind, vanilla still staining his jaw and teeth.
“Reeeeeal sly, princess, you definitely know how to be discreet about it,” Morte said.
Celestia arched a brow, a frown returning once she noticed Morte. “If you don’t mind me asking, discreet about what?”
“Discreet about the fact you wanna get into the Chief’s pants—er, actually, I think skirt is a better word. Or would it be called a toga?” Morte asked, humming under his breath. “Actually, kilt works best. Anyway, could you be any more obvious over the fact you’re only helping him out is because you’ve got the hots for Chief? I mean, the guy was only interested in this date with you just to find a way to cure his bottom of the barrel immortality.”
“I’m shocked that you would even think to accuse me, a princess and dignified ruler of an entire nation, of such selfish actions. Shocked and hurt.” Celestia rose from her seat and departed from the table and Morte. “I will not stand for such accusations, no sir. Learn about proper manners and we’ll commence this conversation at another time.”
“Proper manners?” Morte was practically fuming at the mouth. “Hey, princess, I’ve seen your profile picture! Dignified rulers don’t make those positions in front of a camera!”
Celestia glanced over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. “Not if they don’t know how to work it,” she said, wiggling her rump while giving Morte a sly wink.
“Oh great,” Morte whispered, just as Celestia exited the restaurant. “Chief doesn’t stand a chance.”