It is otherworldly, and it never kept a clock. So the siblings — who never got an ordinary life to be bored of — built one out of hours instead: ten people living in ten different time zones, in realms and rooms of their own, who all come back to the same counter for supper.
The clock here is yours to move. Pick an hour and the realm will show you who is up, where they went, and how much light is in the room.
Nobody here keeps a temper past supper. If two of them fall out, they make it up before the kettle boils and apologise properly, out loud — they left the old ways behind on purpose, and they have no intention of carrying any part of them back in. Even the squirrel mafia outside the window has a sense of humour, and is far more helpful than it ever lets on.
the hand starts at your hour