[ sha-ming is in a state of disarray when he appears before seimei.

there's an angry, red snake bite protruding through his midriff; it's purpling with miasma, his hand swelling with the same toxin. his breath is labored, a hand clenched over his stomach -- despite the pain, he's... remarkably quiet, a kind of calmness washing over him as he stumbles towards the man.

he gestures his hand towards seimei -- in its palm is a lung, ripe and ready. ]

Remember... when I said I wasn't gonna touch that shit...

[ ahem. ]

Real... fuckin' funny... take it, dude...

[ and then, more earnestly: ]

...Please help me.