It was always dim in Daedalus' workshop. Not due to lack of lighting or anything similar, but because he liked it that way. It was calming. Although he did have lights on and above his work desk, they were only there to illuminate his current projects. In a way, it helped him to concentrate on what he was working on and nothing else. His mind had the tendency to wander. It was mostly due to he ADHD, but is was also due the fact that the young tinker's mind was brimming with prospective inventions. Many of his past inventions littered the walls and shelves within his shop. Some of them (mostly weapons) were for sale and others he thought to precious to let go off. Toys, little steam powered animals, a clock or 5, those were his treasures and each was in possession of a kind of whimsicality, much like their creator.

Daedalus Freight, or D.D. as he was commonly known, was a very laid back person. He had never been in favor of the war. If people wanted to use steam, they should be allowed to use steam. If people wanted to use oil, they should be allowed to use oil. But, the oil-lovers had to be petty. If they used oil then everyone had to use oil, for no other reason than fact that it granted them a sense of power. The war had nothing to do with environmentally friendly resources. It was all about power. The ridiculousness of the situation never ceased to confound him.

Although he opposed killing and violence, recently it had become quite difficult to avoid. When frequency of attacks increased and the hospitals began to fill up, Daedalus felt that he had to do something. So he opened his little workshop and began building weapons and spares for people who were more actively involved in the fighting. Daedalus himself had little part in it. He preferred to be the mind behind the matter. However, that did not mean that he hid away and twiddled his thumbs while the chaos unfolded. Daedalus tried his best to protect his shop and provide help to any people needed it with the weapons he created for himself. He tried his best not to kill, but sometimes death was unavoidable.

At the moment, Daedalus was fidgeting with the mechanisms of an elaborate set of wings. He had no idea how said invention would be useful to the war, but the idea had stuck with him and he could not resist the temptation. The young inventor had been working on it for the past week and was almost complete. He was almost giddy with excited and with a final turn of a screw the treasure was done. He lifted it up and smiled brightly. "I can't wait to try you out," he said enthusiastically"In fact, I won't wait!"
He woke up from his chair in such a hurry that he forgotten that he wasn't wearing his left foot and stumbled about about on his right one, all the while laughing at himself. He scooped up his cane, which also housed his sword, and hopped over to a shelf behind him. The shiny bronze foot rested behind a little carousel that he had yet to complete. While he secured the foot to his leg, he made a mental note to finish it the moment he returned.

Finally, when he had armed himself and turned of all the lights, he and his new treasure exited the shop. The city was a buzz with the various sounds. Metal against metal and the whistles of steam were the most prominent ones, but years of living there had made Daedalus used to it. As he walked down the busy street, in search of a good place to test out the wings, Daedalus hummed a little tune to himself. Perhaps he would add it to his carousel.