Silvertip Mountain but what's inside you?

fading here, tysm for the thread!

deeper and deeper into the caverns, being pushed through an intestinal tract, funneling down a bloodstream as a piece of hemoglobin on a cell— he creates metaphors and crushes them together like it's nothing.
he hums in lieu of an answer, his mouth set in a thin and thoughtful line. these things had always fascinated him. art and science coming together to shake hands, and he's always wondering which one is going to let go first. so many other stories about frankenstein things. but they could wait.
inevitably, hunger and thirst draw the two back up towards the surface. everything is so white-blonde overexposed and it takes a while before he remembers how it feels like to not be squinting.