On Gaia, innate magic is something only the Cetra could boast, as far as Cloud knows. "Sounds...amazing," he says, quietly but with sincerity. When Aerith died, it felt like all the magic had gone out of everything. The Forgotten Capital, the earth, the air, the whole planet. She didn't sing to wield her power, but the feeling the idea imparts to Cloud seems similar, at least. Prayer is a little like song, he thinks, and the voice of the planet is a real, audible thing. Water, too, holds power there.

Hearing what happened with the device, he winces. What a horrible, gruesome way to die. "Shit...at least you were able to stop it from happening again."