Kinalara (OFFICIAL TUTOR)

Name: Kinalara or Rachel. Kina, to you.
Age: 17
Category: Prefer roleplaying help- but I can also help with typical fiction pieces.
Experience:
Hmm...I've been roleplaying KNOWING it was roleplaying for about 6 years-- been doing it not knowingly for far far longer. Been writing about as long as I could hold a pencil.

Favorite Genres: Fantasy, Anthro, Action, Mild Romance, Humor, Gothic Lit.
Favorite
Topics: Anthro and my oc's antics. Typical everyday stuff is actually pretty entertaining to write if handled correctly. I also enjoy a bit of action- though I'm not the best at it.
Favorite Reads: Pretty much the same as the stuff I like to write.
Favorite Type of Writing: Short Stories. Primarily that.

Strengths:
~ Character Concepting
~ Vocab and Grammar
~ Humor
~ Starting Sentences/'Pull-in' starter sentences.
Weaknesses:

X Description
X Repetitive word choice
X Often will make short replies due to sudden lack of patience
X Plotting out fully/Tying it together
Area
of Expertise: Uh. ....Not too sure. I'm ok at making things readable, I suppose. Can get a cheap chuckle now and again. Not too good at talking well about myself. XD

Why
do you want to be a tutor? I like to help when I can-- and I think it'll help me learn some things in return.

Sample Writing 1: Anthro Roleplay Sample

Quote :

You know, there are just some places in life that you
never want to go and you never think you'll have to.

Slaughterhouse 9 was one of those places- a godforsaken, abandoned old slaughterhouse
turned godforsaken, thriving hellhole. The place was unavoidable-
especially for Tonny, who lived in Ravenwood and not too utterly far
away. The sounds would occasionally drift through her window on the
nights that the apartment complex dropped into an almost uncomfortable
silence.
Though, it wasn't as much "drifting" as it was "diving and
barrel rolling into the room". Even when the window was closed she could
pick out almost every lyric of every familiar song- keeping her awake
on nights that she was having trouble sleeping already.
Now, Tonny was no stranger to clubs and raves-- she loved them. The rush, the heat, the intensity and passion- it was all so invigorating. But
Slaughterhouse 9....well, it was beyond her. It seemed that everything
it did, it did too much. Everyone there was high or wasted-- or getting
laid somewhere in the corner- an experience she had witnessed on her
first, and until now last, visit there. Tonny was no prude- nearly the
opposite- but the place was way too racy for her. Going there was just
asking for trouble, and trouble was the last thing she needed right now.
But when you're 19, unemployed, and living in a run-down old apartment
building with hardly enough to live on day to day even by the 'slums'
standard, you'll take a chance at just about anything.

Which was exactly what Tonny did when she heard the place was in need of extra bar-tenders. Of course, a well-enough looking female bar-tender in a
setting filled with drunk and high men- and more than likely, the occasional lesbian- would be an obvious target, so she would always need to be prepared for anything. Since today was just to run in, speak to
the head barkeep, scout the place, then get the hell out as soon as
possible, she didn't bother dressing the part. Though she normally loved
wearing shorts up to the thigh and shirts cut to considerable cleavage,
she reached for a pair of black knee-lengths and a black tee. And for
good measure, a switchblade she threw in her pocket. She tossed on a
black bandanna, and she was set.

Normally, getting to places was a bit of a hassle due to a little clingy best-buddy of Tonny's known as Dyslexia. Names of streets would either be wrong on the directions or wrong on the signs- but only to her eyes. It was why she was even more desperate for a job and some cash-- to invest in a GPS system to make things a tad bit easier on her. But tonight, neither a GPS nor the processional stop to ask someone where she was was needed. Everyone in the outskirts knew about Slaughterhouse 9- and committed where it was to memory, be it in the hopes to get there or avoid it at all costs. After about an hour or so, the Striped Hyena's gray old Ford Tempo- one of
the first things she'd gotten when she moved to the city when she still
had money to spare on getting herself settled- pulled into the lot of
Slaughterhouse 9. Stepping out of the car, she got a good glimpse of how
this was gonna go. Already she was getting wolf-whistles and more than
one drunken man staring at her. At one point, one of the drunken men, a
stocky, hazy eyed doberman, stumbled ontop if her, trying to get his
arms around her and slurring something unintelligible. Luckily, he was
hammered enough that a simple shove toppled him to the asphalt and Ton
could take her leave of the parking lot. Or rather, take her mad dash to
the inner Slaughterhouse.

("Bite To Break Skin" opening/entry post excerpt. /cut due to length/)

Sample Writing 2: Anthro Roleplay Sample 2

Quote :

Competition was a huge factor in the aggressive rat-race that was city business. You had to know your competitors. Know what they were doing to get them business. Then steal it, make it better, and shut them down. It was simply how things like that worked. Dog eat dog.
You either sank or swam, and when you sank, the competitors would float
right over your wreckage without so much as a single glance in your
drowning direction.
It was a glorious cycle to watch. Seeing dream after dream crushed beneath the bigger, smarter, and wealthier competitor. It reminded Synther of his dream. His dream to be the one on the very top step of the staircase of success, his icy, carefree blue eyes watching coldly as the rest tripped over each other on the way to try and reach him.

This manner of thinking was what led him to Quetz's. It was a new little place- not must newer than his own, mind you, but still new. And new places were the perfect targets. The sooner you could shatter their ego and take every thing they had the better. That way they couldn't build up to become more shelled and harder to get at in the future. As he walked across the street towards the new building, he already wasn't that impressed. Looked like just about any other bar and club you'd come across in the down-town circuit- was that a panther?

A good foot away from the building and the aforementioned big cat, Synther quickly stopped himself, staring at the animal with sharp blue eyes hidden behind white-rimmed sunglasses. (To match his white fur-coat, naturally.) He stood there, stock-still, watching the animal, as his mind turned the idea over. ...Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to put an unpredictable large killer animal outside of their doors? Was this some kind of twisted advertising stunt? If anything, it would drive costumers away. But then he thought again. These animals were known to be animals of royalty-
very pricey. So certainly it could be trying to convey the message that
the place was high-dollar. Hmmm...clever. Very clever. Certainly an idea
to keep in mind.
Now he reached out with a scaled hand, pulling the door open and entering.

Looking around the place, he found himself moderately interested. Of course it would be much more lively and intriguing when the actual hour for partying arose. The lighting was a bit sparse, but good enough to be in a club. An average club, of course. Nothing special. His eyes landed on the only drunken male fur first. ...Meh. Sloppily drunken men weren't that attractive, as it were. He decided to leave that one be. Now his covered, slitted, reptilian
eyes darted over to the two women at the bar. One drunken man and two
women. Some Gay bar this was.
He started over to them, giving one of his most alluring smiles, the man reaching up and pulling his glasses down a bit so his eyes could look them over better. Both were...fairly attractive. The one seated was a bit rough looking but...nothing that couldn't be overlooked just a tad. She looked spicy too. He liked that about a woman. Unfortunately, he quickly reminded himself that this was, in fact, a gay bar. Despite the current lack of men. Any woman in here was one of two things: A lesbian, or extremely desperate. And in denial.

"Evening,
ladies." Synther greeted, his soft voice slathered with a thick honey sweetness that made his speech all the more alluring. He sat a seat away from the hyena, not wanting to impose on her space so quickly. That was no way to work into someone's affections.
And he was pretty well knowledged in manipulation.

("I Just Want To See..." Opening/Entry Post, full)

Sample
Writing 3: Human Roleplay Sample

Quote :

She had never allowed herself to stop.

Ever since the sight of
the ruined town- the bodies in the streets, the wounded moaning for
help, the burned buildings. Ever since she realized he was not among
them. She refused to stop moving.

The young woman hardly slept
or rested, moving through rugged terrain on foot for the most part-
(though summoning her griffin or eagle on occasion when walking any
further became impossible)- not allowing herself the slightest of
luxury. Her frustration and guilt had boiled into un-restrained rage and
hatred towards anything that wandered into her path. He constant
killing and fight-picking had earned her a well shaped, worked body--
but one riddled with horrible, deep and painful scars. She ignored the
pain-- she could only imagine what kind of suffering Ardell could be
going through. Perhaps hers didn't even hold a candle to his. As long as
the possibility was there, she took no mercy on herself.

It
wouldn't have happened if she hadn't left. This was the mindset she had
sunken deeply into ever since she returned from her short training
journey and saw the mess- the only thing left of her lover in that ruin
his cheeky spirit bow. No lead. No rumor. Nothing to indicate to her
that he was even still alive. Just the word of slaves in the north--
slaves taken from the elven villages. It gave her the smallest bit of
smoldering hope.
But it had been years now. She had trained for many
of them- forcing herself to become strong enough to face those that
were at least twice her size- if not even larger. She had needed those
years, true- but it had sacrificed precious time.
Time, in which,
that could have swallowed Ardell whole.

As she trudged through
the snow in a weak, numb, persistent haze, she noticed a dancing light
off in the distance. Fire. Every stubborn and self-loathing bone in
Kina's body was turning her away from that site- but every survival
instinct that had ever been in her from birth spurred her towards it.
And so she kept a steady pace towards the light-- perhaps she could walk
through, catch a waft of the heat and then keep moving. She was almost
to the volcano anyway.

("If Only You Had Looked Like That Sooner" Opening/Entry Post, full)