The gates, finally! Aerith stepped forward, the communicator device in her left hand and the Crystal Rod in her right as she exited through them out of the city of perpetual night. The rising mist about her wasn't blinding, and Aerith was able to make out the familiar view of Zidane's face and the outline of an airship behind him. She drew a few quick steps forward into the mist.

Her foot stopped just above the ground, drawing back to meet with the other. A voice...? It sounded hurt, pained. It felt as if it were in agony-- and it wasn't alone. There were multiple voices, all in low whispers and some more decipherable than others-- some sounding oddly familiar in ways that made her skin crawl. The settling feeling of disruption in the life flow of the planet caused an somewhat foreboding feeling. So she could hear the voices of this planet-- and they were very unhappy, as if souls in continual unrest.

It was surprising, but Aerith continued onward toward Zidane. She tilted her head to the side when she was near enough to him.

"You really do have a nice ship." she glanced upward at it. It was different from the airships in her own world. "Not the same as the ones I'm used to seeing."