Would you love a Monsterman? (Avdol x Polnareff)

Wanderlust

It was another rainy evening in the little town of Windknight's Lot. It was a tiny place, buried amongst the misty pine forests of Washington State, battered by winds from the Pacific Northwest coast. The place had been named after an old English village that was rumoured to be haunted, and such a name couldn't be more apt- as monsters did indeed stalk the town's streets. If you were to take the path through the woods next to the old lumber mill and take a left turn at the noticeboard warning hikers about wolves, you'd find yourself on the path to the Joestar residence. It was a house deep in the forest, said to be haunted. Spiderwebs decorated the front porch, the staircase made odd creaking noises, and the interior was filled with slightly creepy paintings. Children would dare each other to peer through the windows, teenagers would tell tall tales of devil worshippers and psychopathic murderers, and adults would shake their heads and mutter about "that odd lot" who lived there. The house was home to four men (and one ghost), and all of them could indeed be described as "odd"- as, unbeknownst to the people of the town, they were monsters.

Polnareff awakened as the full moon rose overhead, and let out a yawn, revealing his white fangs. He didn't have a reflection and he didn't show up well in photos, as like all monsters, he showed up blurry on camera, which is why pictures of bigfoot always look faked. However, judging by the portraits painted of him over the years, he was still pale-skinned, white-haired, red-eyed, pointy-eared, fanged and eternally youthful. Polnareff stretched in the red silken lining of his white-painted ornate coffin, and got out of bed. He loved autumn days like this, as the sun shone just long enough for him to get a good day's sleep, whilst still allowing him to have plenty of time to do things at night. Even then, as autumn was usually overcast in this part of the world, he could still go out in the late afternoon or evening as long as he stayed in the shadows or wore sunblock.

Despite the wonderfully gloomy weather, Polnareff was in low spirits. He'd been this way for a few days, yet he had absolutely no clue why. Maybe he was just hungry? Polnareff pulled on a black strappy top, white jeans and his favourite broken-heart earrings, pausing to admire his abs. He might not have had a reflection, but you'd have to be blind to not notice how absolutely chiseled he was, like a marble statue. And just like a real statue, Polnareff was cold, pale and lifeless.
"You up yet?!" A voice with a lilting Italian accent called. Caesar- the resident ghost and Joseph's long-term lover- phased through the wall. He looked like a blonde man in his late 60's, dressed in stylish clothing, albeit a bit see-through and luminous.
"Yeah, I'm awake. Why do you ask?" Polnareff said as he fixed his hair.
"Your breakfast is separating on the table." The ghost said, gliding off. Polnareff groaned- he hated it when blood separated- and headed downstairs, leaving no shadow as he went. The eyes of portraits followed him as he walked downstairs, depicting a headless horseman on a black and white steed, a woodprint kitsune with violet eyes, and a black and white photograph of a brunette and a blonde man sitting on a 1940s car.

"So, you're finally awake!" Joseph grinned from the head of the dining table. He was a grey-haired werewolf, yet whenever he wasn't a snarling beast he simply appeared to be a well built older man with grey hair and oddly yellow eyes. Werewolves ages differently from humans, so although he was over 100 years old (he was born in the 1920s) he was only physically and mentally 69. He was currently tearing into a side of beef, as his species was carnivorous.
"Horror of horrors, the dead are walking." Polnareff sighed. It was usually a joke he made whenever he woke up, but now it just felt like a chore to say.
"What's eating you?" Joseph asked, smearing barbecue sauce on his meat. "Is it lady trouble? I should know, I've been through a divorce before. But hey, then Caesar came along and..."
"It's not lady trouble, I'm just feeling blue." The vampire sighed. "That, or I'm just hungry." This answer seemed to satisfy Joseph, who went back to the incredibly important task of stuffing his face.

Jotaro slid a glass of lukewarm blood over to Polnareff. The Oni was three metres tall and deep purple, with gold horns and bright green eyes. His mother (Joseph's daughter) was a werewolf who'd married an Oni she met in Japan, and thus Jotaro was born as a horned monster, as it was really a 50/50 chance of what he'd be. Despite the stories that surrounded him, Jotaro wasn't a man-eating monster, and preferred to study marine biology and go for long walks with his husband Noriaki.
"Yeah, I know it's warm, but you should've taken less time preening if you wanted it while it was still cool from the fridge." Jotaro grunted. Polnareff grimaced, but took a sip anyway.
"The butcher must think that we're awfully weird for ordering so much cow's blood every week." Noriaki pondered. He was a nine-tailed kitsune with red ears, purple eyes, and an affinity for cherries.
"We ARE weird. Weird and proud!" Joseph grinned, thumping the table with glee.

Polnareff finished his blood, yet didn't feel any different. He still felt empty, hollow- bored. Polnareff had been around for 723 years, and yet he was still single. He couldn't bear to date humans- either they would scream at the sight of his fangs, or he'd have to watch them wither and grow old before him, as their hair greyed and their minds frayed until they couldn't remember him at all. He'd have to find another undead being if he wanted a lover, but the undead were as rare as hen's teeth.
"I'm just so... bored. Every day is the same!" Polnareff sighed, staring down at his empty glass.
"Learn a new language." Jotaro said unhelpfully.
"I already know French, English, Spanish, Italian, Arabic, Mandarin, Sanskrit, Farsi, Portuguese and Inuktitut." The vampire sighed. "I think I might just need a change of scenery."
"Hey, maybe you could go on holiday!" Joseph suggested.
"JoJo, you idiot, where on earth is a vampire meant to go on holiday?!" Caesar sighed.
"Actually, that's a good idea." Kakyoin said. "You could go somewhere you've never been before, somewhere that you've always wanted to go."
"But where?" Jotaro suggested.
"Oh, I have an idea..." Polnareff grinned.

Travel was hard for the undead- Polnareff couldn't go out in the daytime, and could only sleep if he had some soil from his native land on hand, so aeroplanes were out of the question. However, he'd figured out how to get around that by simply mailing himself to foreign countries. He'd use his vampiric hypnosis to make the couriers think he was a mannequin, and then he could simply go wherever he wanted! So, in the space of a few days, Polnareff had packed himself into a cardboard box (with a chilled bottle of blood and three mushy romance novels) and was heading off to Egypt. He was aware that Egypt was known for hot, sunny weather, but he could simply hide from the sun the way he did at home. Anyway, desert nights were long, and he'd wanted to go there ever since he'd overheard some guy called Champollion in a bar, talking about how he'd tripped over a big rock covered in hieroglyphics. According to all the movies, Egypt was full of undead sentient mummies, but Polnareff didn't believe that for a second. After all, what were the chances that he'd meet another undead being?